


In the Land of no Tomorrow

by Skrigget



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Ending, Character Death, Death, F/M, Ghosts, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, M/M, Nogitsune, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Feels, Past Relationship(s), Possible Character Death, Sexual Content, mainly sterek, of a sort, season 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skrigget/pseuds/Skrigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Am I dead?”</p><p>“Where you came from, yes, there you are no longer a living person.”</p><p>“And yet you wish to send me back?” </p><p>“I am merely presenting you with the opportunity.”</p><p>“I could refuse?”</p><p>“You could.”</p><p>“But I won’t.”</p><p>“I thought so.”</p><p>--</p><p>Stiles is dead but for some reason he does not belong in the Kingdom of the dead. So he is given the chance to go visit his old life one last time in order to figure out why he is different and what happened to him, meanwhile he has to hide the fact that he is dead from his pack and family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog

**Author's Note:**

> It does not say "major character death" in the warning but let's be clear: Stiles is dead. Whether he'll stay dead I cannot tell you. I also cannot promise you that everyone will make it out this fic alive, at the same time as I won't tell you if anyone dies. So. That was frustratingly vague I know, sorry. 
> 
> PS this is only the prolog, the actual story will begin next chapter and it will make more sense.

_“It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.”_

― John Steinbeck

 

He opens his eyes and the first thing he notices is how white and fake everything around him is. He’s been to his fair share of hospitals and he’s woken up in plenty enough to know what a hospital room is supposed to look like – and this is not it.

The walls are white, sure, the bed sheets are smooth underneath his fingertips, there’s a bedside table with a glass of water and the room looks sterile.

This is not a hospital room.

Everything about the room is fake, wrong, like there’s a layer of dirt covering it…

Fog, that’s what it is, fog. It’s like there’s a layer of fog, like the air is full of steam. He can’t see it if he focuses on it, then it’s gone, and he’s left alone in his room but out of the corner of his eyes he can sense it – like an everlasting shadow, lurking just without of his reach.

Wherever he is and however he got here there is something off about the place and he feels –

Nothing.

He feels absolutely nothing.

He sits up in his bed and takes a closer look around but even if there is stuff in the room – a painting on the wall, a dresser under a window – it doesn’t matter. It’s like his eyes can’t focus on the little details, like his mind is working too slow for it to properly react to anything around him.

It should be scary but it really isn’t.

His first thought should be: am I drugged? But he knows he isn’t – this isn’t a place where you can get drugged. This is something entirely new, this is someplace he’s never been before and somewhere, deep within himself, he knows exactly where he is and how he got there but –

It’s like thinking about someone without being able to remember their name. That’s the feeling he sits with, on the edge of the bed, as his fingers runs over his naked legs.

He _knows_ but he can’t _say_ because even though he knows he doesn’t _remember_ it.

It is frustrating but in a vague way, like he can’t even get his emotions to work. He doesn’t feel, he doesn’t see, there’s something off about the room but he isn’t worried just aware of it.

He gets up from the bed and notices that he’s naked. It does neither startle nor bother him and he opens the door to his room without second guessing it.

He is in a long, long hallway filled with door after door after door. Some of them are open, most are closed, a few are occupied with someone walking in or out. There’re a few people in the hallway. They don’t look up when he enters – they look straight ahead but not in a demanding sort of way; in a dazed kind of way like they aren’t sure themselves why they are walking anywhere at all.

They too are naked.

He moves out into the hallway and starts rooming the corridor. He can’t decide which way to go and he has a feeling he should know this, like it should be natural to him to go either left or right but he has this feeling he’s supposed to go straight ahead or back into his room and through the window –

But, no, that isn’t right either.

So he is left standing in his doorway for a long, long time – possibly but he isn’t entirely sure, he doesn’t think times works in a place like this, it certainly doesn’t feel like anything is moving, not even the people in the corridors, walking ahead – before he sighs.

He sighs, and that seems important somehow.

Maybe it’s because it’s the first real noise he’s heard while he’s been in this place. Nothing else is making a sound. Not the doors opening or closing, not the people walking around, nothing. Except for him when he sighs.

He does it again, just to hear the sound of it, and he has a feeling he is cracking something – ruining something very precious.

He should probably stop but he can’t – he wants to listen to his own sighs forever.

For every time he sighs the feeling of cracking something gets more and more persistent until –

He stops. He knows what’s changed.

He feels something. He feels persistent, he feels irritated, he feels endeared, he feels powerful.

And he feels very wrong. Because he has realized something else at this point: it’s not this place that’s fake, it’s him. He doesn’t belong, he can sense something no one else around him can sense and he is not supposed to be able to do that and –

He sighs.

And then something else: the sound of someone walking towards him.

He looks up. The sound is loud and clear and lonely.

There’s a man approaching him – or at least he thinks it’s a man at first but then at soon as he has this thought something falters inside of him, it gets harder to look at the man – if he is a man – and he can’t remember what the man had looked like all of the sudden.

The next time he is finally able to get a good look it’s a woman.

And then it’s both.

And then it’s neither.

The person – if it is a person – walks straight past him but he has a feeling he should follow so he does and they go down the corridor but he’s suddenly aware that this is not the same corridor as they were in a before, this is not the corridor with all the doors, this is a new place.

The person stops in front of something and he walks up next to the person to look and he sees…

Worlds, universes, eternities, existence, times, lives, deaths, ruins, love, wars; he sees everything and it is truly terrifying.

“This is the place,” the person suddenly speaks with a voice that it neither high nor deep nor real.

 “Yes,” he says because the person is right – this is the place. “What is wrong with me?”

“Is there something wrong with you?”

“I am different.”

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Forever.”

“No, not forever.”

It’s the first real answer and he dares to look at the person but all he sees is a sort of greatness in the shape of nothing.

“Why am I different, why is there something wrong with you?”

“I cannot tell you this,” the person answers.

“What can you tell me?”

“That you are not the first nor will you be the last.”

“Am I supposed to go somewhere else?”

“Would you want to?”

“I think so.”

“I can give you something,” the person – who really isn’t a person – says. “I can give you an opportunity.”

“To do what?”

“Do you see this? All of this?”

The greatness points with no finger to the everything in front of them (and behind them, and around them, and within them).

“Yes,” he answers.

“This,” the greatness explains, “is where you’re from.”

“All of it?”

“Some of it.”

“And you can send me back?”

“For some time. Not forever.”

“Why not forever?”

“Because you are here now and then you cannot be down there forever.”

“I don’t understand,” he confesses.

“That’s okay, you’re not supposed to understand. No one else has ever understood.”

“Then… what is this?”

“You already know the answer to that question.”

“Why am I here?”

“Again, you voice a question to which you already have the answer.”

“Am I dead?”

“Where you came from, yes, there you are no longer a living person.”

“And yet you wish to send me back?”

“I am merely presenting you with the opportunity.”

“I could refuse?”

“You could.”

“But I won’t.”

“I thought so.”

“Something happened to me, yes?”

“There’s been others before you,” the greatness speaks, “and they’ve all wished to visit their old lives one last time. When they’ve returned they’ve always found something they didn’t know they were looking for. But it has never been painless. Their eyes are darker when they return.”

“Do they always return to here?”

“No.”

“Then where do they go?”

“I cannot answer that.”

“Okay. Can I go now?”

“Yes.”

They turn around and he follows the greatness even though it has no shape or size, is neither male nor female, has no voice and yet it still speaks and he follows it.

“Do I have a name?” he asks.

“You do. You have many.”

“Which one do I prefer than?”

“Stiles.”

The name sounds familiar – it roles on his tongue, it clicks in his ears, it makes his fingers twist.

They are in a room but this time it’s not wrong, it’s just right, the fog isn’t here, there’s no steam or any shadows lurking, his mind doesn’t feel too slow and his movements are right.

There’s a desk in the middle of the room and a door.

The greatness is by the table and Stiles is by the door.

“Will they be happy to see me?” he asks.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I thought you were almighty,” Stiles says. “What are you?”

“What are _you_?”

Stiles smirks – it feels strange at first but then it’s like his features settles around the new pull on his lips.

“What am I?” he asks.

“A lost one, perhaps. A lost boy.”

The door is open and Stiles is about to go through. There’s a lot of noise on the other side, he’s not sure he likes it.

“A lost boy? Then this is Neverland? Are you Peter Pan?” he asks.

He is halfway through and the greatness is suddenly changing right in front of his eyes and it’s both mesmerizing and terrifying.

“I am J.M. Berry,” and those are real words – spoken loud and clear.

And then he takes the final step through and he can feel again.

And what he feels is agony and then nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 1

_“You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain”_

– Batman 

 

_What do you remember?_

He doesn’t know where the voice is coming from or if it’s even real.

_What do you remember about your life?_

He takes a deep breath.

He remembers…

Love.

He remembers the love of his father. He remembers his mother dying – he remembers his father’s too tight hugs and he remember the feeling of being safe in that embrace.

He remembers…

Friendship.

He remembers Scott’s wide grin, his dark brown eyes and his earnest laugh. He remembers pulling all-nighters before tests, trying to study but mostly just playing video games. He remembers thousands of video marathons. He remembers Scott’s wavering voice as he told him that he’d be there for him – no matter what.

And he remembers…

Derek.

Standing on his front porch with flowers and a grumpy look on his face, dressed in a tuxedo, looking ready to murder someone. He remembers him asking Stiles on a date. He remembers kisses in the rain, laughter in the backseat of his jeep, he remembers strong fingers and fumbling touches and he remembers falling asleep next to his boyfriend.

And he remembers…

Werewolves and banshees and alpha-packs and –

_Remember._

_Remember._

_Remember._

There’s still something vital missing. Something important that should be there but for some reason just isn’t. There’s a piece of information that for whatever reason has simply disappeared. It’s like his memories flows through him over and over again but no matter how hard he tries to grasp a hold of them he can’t and it’s impossible to tell when the memories start and more important when they stop. There’s simply no end but he knows there has to be and end.

There has to be a death – _his_ death but it isn’t there.

_Remember._

He can’t.

And then he starts feeling something.

There’s something underneath his fingertips; something hard and concrete, like a floor. He can move his fingers he realizes to his big surprise and so he moves his fingers over the floor. It feels dirty and old. Then he notices he can smell something as well. It smells old and earthy and like something burned. It smells like death too. He can open his eyes is the next thing he learns. And when he does he sees; darkness, at first. Immense darkness. But gradually the darkness turns vaguely lighter somehow and he knows it’s just his eyes adjusting. After a few moments – he is surprised to learn he has a sense of time here – he can see where he is.

It’s some sort of old, burned down house. It looks like it’s on the verge of collapsing but it’s still somehow standing and he is surprised by this.

He can see a staircase and an entrance into what he assumes is either a kitchen or a living room.

He is sitting against either a door or a wall and he has no interest in moving just yet. He isn’t even sure he can, so he just sits still and looks around but there’s not much to look at. There’s a door straight ahead of him and judging by the fact that Stiles can see trees and forest on the other side of the windows next to it he guesses it’s the front door.

The whole house seems very abandon, by the looks of it, but he knows there might actually be people living here and if that’s the case he has to get up and move.

Because there’s also the possibility that people won’t be thrilled to have a dead boy walking around –

He stops his trail of thought abruptly. He realizes he isn’t even aware of whether or not people can see him.

He groans and closes his eyes. The darkness on the other side of his eyelids is oddly comforting.

After a while he finally opens his eyes again and starts to move more than just his fingers.

First, he sits up straighter against the wall/door.

Secondly, he moves his arms out in front of him just to get a feeling into them.

Thirdly, he tries to moves his legs. It proves easier done than imagined and he gets up surprisingly gracefully. It’s strange, he thinks, because he knows he isn’t graceful; he’s awkward and defenseless.

He shakes his head and takes a step forward; again it is easier than it should’ve probably have been. He pays it no mind as he walks towards the door. It isn’t until he has the hand on the door handle that he begins to wonder why he is in this particular house in the first place.

With furrowed eyebrows he slowly turns around and now that he has a better look at the staircase he realizes exactly where he is. He turns his head to the right and sees the entrance to what was one a beautiful living room but now has plants breaking through the floor and holes in the roof. Everything is dark and burned.

He is in the old Hale house.

He inhales deeply and lets go of the door handle.

It’s exactly like he remembers it from… when he was alive. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s supposed to feel about the over-whelming fact that he is, in fact, dead. Mostly because it doesn’t feel that different from being alive. He can still breathe and move and feel.

Why he is in the Hale house he has absolutely no idea. This is where Peter Hale was resurrected by Lydia and where Allison’s aunt Kate had her throat slashed so maybe it’s just very convenient for dead people. He doesn’t pretend to understand how any of this works.

He walks into the living room and it looks like it did that day when Scott got his tattoo. And afterwards Stiles and Derek had sex on the floor. The only difference is the thick layer of dust covering every surface. There hasn’t been anyone in the Hale house for a long, long time.

It makes him wonder; what year is it? How long was he gone?

He walks further into the house but it looks like the rest of it; burned down and covered in dust.

When he’s back at the staircase he hesitates for a second or two. He’s never actually been upstairs. He inhales sharply before he takes a step onto the creaking stairs. They protest loudly as he climbs them but he doesn’t stop.

Upstairs the house is not as burned down as it is downstairs and he thinks this is where Derek must’ve lived when he first returned to Beacon Hills.

There are a lot of rooms and two bathrooms. The rooms are mostly empty – no beds, no pictures, nothing on the walls or anything. But there is one room – the largest one there is – where there’s a double bed and closet. The closet is empty save for a pair of long-forgotten jeans and a few old t-shirts. This is when he realizes that he is still naked.

He reaches into the closet and pulls out the jeans and one of the t-shirts. It must’ve belonged to Derek when he lived here because they’re a good few sixes too big for him. He doesn’t care and he puts on the clothes before he walks downstairs again.

He walks out of the front door before he can second guess it.

Is he even allowed to leave the house? He doesn’t know. Are there any sort of rules he’s supposed to follow? Again he’s at a lost.

The forest is as dark and uninviting as ever. The sky above his head is a dark blue and he can see both the moon and the sun hanging low in the horizon.

He starts walking towards the town.

\--

The walk is long but he doesn’t mind. Walking is easy and simply, it doesn’t need any sort of explanation. About thirty minutes after he left the Hale house he hits the main road. If he follows it and then takes a turn to the left he’ll be home.

He stops and looks straight ahead. He isn’t sure if this is what he wants. He isn’t sure if this is what he is supposed to do. Hell, he isn’t sure his father will be able to see him. And if he can then how will he react when he sees his dead son walking through the front door?

But he can’t do anything else; he has no other options so he inhales again and starts walking.

There’s a few people outside but they pay him no mind so either they don’t know he’s dead or they simply can’t see him.

Or they don’t care.

Maybe this isn’t the same reality as he originally came from.

Maybe something went wrong –

But then he sees his house and he knows that this has to be the same house and inside he’ll find the same father.

Again he is left to wonder if this is a good idea but since he can’t just go back he walks forward. Besides, he was send here for a reason. He has to figure something out and he can’t do that from the Hale house. This isn’t just about remembering what happened to him, this is about solving something.

So he walks across the lawn, past his father’s car and to the front door.

Is he supposed to knock or ring the bell? Can he just walk in?

He sighs and opens the door.

The TV is on, he can hear. And there’s the smell of fresh coffee coming from the kitchen. Someone is here and most likely it will be his father.

Stiles walks toward the smell and sees his father sit at the kitchen table with his back turned to his son. He hasn’t heard him approaching.

Stiles watches him for a minute or two before he decides to walk into the kitchen; now or never, here goes for nothing.

He enters and he half expects his father to keep his eyes on the newspaper in front him but instead he looks up at the sound and his eyes locks with Stiles’.

He looks the same, Stiles muses, he doesn’t look older or younger so that has to be a good sign. He can’t have been gone for too long then.

There’s a heartbeat of oddly intense silence that doesn’t belong and then his father stands so quickly he tips over his chair and it falls to the floor with a loud clatter that makes Stiles grimace. When his father crosses the distance between them Stiles expects him to yell or maybe shove him or possibly even to try and kill him but instead he just wrap his arms around him and holds him tight.

“Oh my God, Stiles,” he sighs and hugs him tighter.

Stiles gulps and breathes through his nose. Then he closes his eyes and breathes in the smell if his father; coffee and pizza and he can’t help but smile so widely it hurts his under stimulated cheeks.

“Hey, dad,” Stiles whispers and returns the hug. It feels good, it feels right, it feels like coming home.

Then his father pulls back and looks into his son’s eyes. “Where have you’ve been?” he demands to known and Stiles’ smiles falter.

So some times has passed.

His father has no idea he’s dead.

“I…” he tries to say. He has no respond ready. “I’m sorry,” he settles on and then he pulls the sheriff in for another hug. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” his dad responds, “it’s okay son you’re home now, it’s okay.”

But it isn’t. It’s so far from okay and Stiles doesn’t know how to say that or how to fix it. He suddenly has no idea what to do and he wishes he’d never agreed to this – he wants to be anywhere but here.

When his father pulls back again he manages a small smile and Stiles tries to return it but it doesn’t feel right on his tight lips.

“You should probably call Scott,” the sheriff says. “He’s been worried sick. We all have.”

“I’m sorry,” is all Stiles can say and he means it. God, is he sorry.

“I know, son,” the sheriff promises. “Go call Scott. And then I want to know exactly what happened and where you’ve been!”

Stiles nods before he leaves to go to his room. There’s something essentially wrong with this whole situation. It feels fake and he almost expects the layer of dirt and fog to cover everything like it had – elsewhere.

He opens the door to his bedroom slowly but everything looks the same. He can’t remember the last time he was in there but it feels good and somehow still wrong to be back.

He looks around and finds his phone on his bedside table. He picks it up and finds Scott’s number on speed dial. He bites down on his lower lip thoughtfully. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do or even say. Scott won’t be satisfied with just ‘I’m sorry’ he’ll demand actual answers and Stiles has none.

Unless, of course, Scott is already aware that he’s dead. Maybe the pack knows but they haven’t had the guts to tell the sheriff. Well, the sheriff has seen him so there’s nothing to do about that now; he has to call his friend.

And when he presses ‘call’ he can’t help feel a sudden need surge through him; he misses his friends, he misses his pack, he misses Scott and Lydia and Allison and Derek –

“Hello? Stiles? Stiles!”

“Yeah, hey,” he says and feels stupid.

“Oh my God, are you okay? Where are you?”

“Yeah, um, I’m home. I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Scott asks and Stiles gulps loudly. “Stiles?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… everything is a bit hazy.”

There’s a moment of silence. “Do you not remember?” Scott asks and he sounds too goddamn worried.

“Not really,” Stiles says and his voice breaks.

“Okay,” and Stiles can hear Scott has his alpha-voice on and it makes him smirk. “Just, it’s okay, Stiles. Stay there, I’ll pick you up – “

“What am I supposed to tell my dad?” Stiles asks.

“Oh, fuck,” Scott groans. “Just, tell him…”

Stiles sighs and sits down on the edge of his bed.

“Just tell him what you remember,” Scott says. “Tell him you were kidnapped but you are okay now and everything is a bit confusing but your pack is going to help you figure out the details.”

Kidnapped?

He was kidnapped?

“Tell him the truth, you mean?” Stiles tries.

“Basically,” Scott says.

“Okay,” Stiles mumbles. “Just… hurry up.”

“I’m on my way.”

And then he hangs up and Stiles is left alone with the utter silence.

When he finally goes downstairs he finds his father still at the kitchen table wearing a frown that doesn’t suit him.

Stiles sits down in front of him. “Dad,” he says, “I need you to trust me, can you do that?”

The sheriff furrows his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything at first. Stiles sends him his most pleading look, begging that it will do the trick – and eventually the sheriff nods slowly.

He has to be as vague as possibly. “I was kidnapped.”

“ _What_?”

“Dad, calm down – “

“Calm down?” the sheriff is already up and standing next to him. “Are you okay? Stiles – “

“Dad, please just listen. Okay, I can’t tell you much right now, I have to go see the pack. Scott is on his way to pick me up. I have to talk with them and then I promise you I’ll tell you _everything_.”

The sheriff actually gasps before he stumbles back and grabs the kitchen counter.

“Dad!” Stiles rushes to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Dad, are you okay?”

“No, dammit, Stiles I’m not okay. My son just told me he was kidnapped and I didn’t do enough because I thought you were out with some pack business and I should’ve searched for you harder – “

“Dad, it’s okay,” Stiles tries to say.

“If anything happened to you because I didn’t look for you I’ll never forgive myself,” his father tells him in a stern voice.

Stiles feels like crying but instead he sends him a weak smile. “I’m okay dad. I’m okay.”

His dad looks like he’s on the verge of tears when he wraps his arms around his son again.

Stiles clenches his eyes shut and returns the hug like before.

He doesn’t know what’s up and what’s down, he doesn’t know what happened to him, but no matter what he is going to figure this shit out, he is going to give his father some sort of closer if it’s the last thing he ever does.

The doorbell rings and Stiles takes a step back. He can’t bear to look at his father’s face so he stares at his hands as he says: “That’s probably Scott,” and he steps past him to go to the front door.

He opens the door and is attacked by a figure that wraps his arms around Stiles’ frame and holds him close to his chest.

Stiles smiles when he wraps his arms around his best friend.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Scott whispers against his neck.

Stiles swallows hard. “Yeah,” is all he says.

When they pull apart the sheriff is standing behind his son.

“Scott,” he says, “I trust you’ll protect my son.”

“I will,” Scott says. “We’ll make it okay again.”

The sheriff nods and Stiles can’t look at any of them so he just focuses on his own hands again. There’s a tightness in his chest, threatening to swallow him whole and he can’t ignore it.

“I want the truth when you come back, Stiles,” his father tells him seriously and Stiles nods.

And then Stiles and Scott turn around and leave through the front door. As soon as the door is closed behind him he feels an overwhelming need to turn around and run back inside and hug his father again but he fights against the urge and follows his friend to the car parked next to the sidewalk.

“Your mom let you borrow the car?” Stiles asks as he gets in.

“Lydia’s,” Scott explains.

“Is she… at yours?” Stiles asks but he isn’t sure he wants to know.

“They’re all there.”

Stiles nods and focuses on the road ahead of him.

Lydia, with her strawberry blonde hair and red lips who looks beautiful even when she cries. He closes his eyes and doesn’t open them until they’re in front of the McCall house. He still has no idea how long it’s been since he disappeared when he enters but when he sees the pack sitting in the living, scattered around in the furniture and leaning against walls, he feels like it’s been centuries.

Lydia is on the couch next to a dark-haired girl and another girl with sharp eyes. Leaning against the wall is Danny and next to him Ethan. A young boy is sitting in a large chair.

Stiles’ first instinct is to ask where everyone else is but then he remembers:

Allison dying, Aiden dying, Isaac leaving – and he almost chokes.

Everyone look up when he enters and their glares cuts through him like knives.

Lydia stands up immediately and runs to him. She too hugs him like he’s just returned from the dead and oh the irony of that.

The dark-haired girl next to him breaks into a huge grin when she sees him. “Oh thank god you’re alright!”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows, confused, but then the pieces falls into place: Kira.

Danny – who Stiles has no idea what’s doing at a pack meeting – hugs him as well and Ethan gives him a bright smile. When he lost his brother Stiles never thought he’d see the boy smile again.

The girl on the couch next to Kira has yet to move when someone walks down the stairs. Stiles turns to look and he eyes land on Derek.

“You’re alive,” the older male says and Stiles can’t help but grin at the sight of his boyfriend but when Derek doesn’t return it, just stands stiff and still, it falters. There’s something wrong, he realizes. Derek is too far away, his eyes are too dark, his posture is too stiff and he doesn’t look happy to see Stiles; in fact he seems more puzzled than relived and he furrows his eyebrows when he looks at Stiles like the boy is some unsolved case he’s trying to figure out.

“I am,” Stiles answers and he probably sounds confused but he thinks he has a right to be.

Then the girl on the couch finally moves. She’s quicker than Lydia and her hug is tighter too – it almost hurts him. And then she places a hand on each of his cheeks and leans in and kisses him and he’s caught completely by surprise.

Another piece of the puzzle clicks into place: Malia.

He doesn’t return the kiss but she doesn’t seem to notice because when she pulls away she has a smile on her face – that too seems wrong, like this girl isn’t destined to smile.

“Okay,” Lydia says, “tell us what happened.”

Stiles, suddenly standing in the middle of the living room with everyone’s eyes on him, opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. He looks at these people, at his friends, his pack, who are relieved that he’s back and they have no idea that he’s not there for good, that this is only temporarily. They have no idea he’s dead and yet again he’s struck with the sudden need to be anywhere but here.

“He doesn’t remember,” Scott says when Stiles doesn’t.

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember?” Malia asks.

“It’s… hazy,” Stiles explains and he hopes to God that the werewolves can’t hear his lie.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Ethan asks.

Stiles inhales, bites down on his lower lip, frowns and shrugs. He has to be very careful. He has to somehow get the pack to reveal what they know without making it obvious that he has no idea what has happened to him.

“Like I said it’s hazy. Maybe it would help if you told me what the last thing you remember is?” he asks.

“After the nogitsune, um, killed Allison and Aiden – “ Scott stiffens, Ethan looks down and Lydia clenches her fists – “and Isaac left you seemed to be okay for a little while but then you passed out and – “ Kira stops and looks at the others like she needs their confirmation to continue.

“The nogitsune took you,” Lydia says.

Stiles tries not to expose any emotions.

“One second you were back home, resting, and we were out looking for it and then…” Scott’s voice breaks. “You were gone.”

There is a long moment of silence following his words and Stiles honest to god has no idea what to do or say.

“And then you just showed up.” Malia looks at him and then lunges herself at him again and he tries to return her hug eagerly but she feels wrong in her arms, like she doesn’t belong there. “Don’t leave me,” she says sternly. “Don’t ever leave again.”

Stiles tries to smile when she takes a step back but it turns into a grim grimace and he sighs.

“I don’t remember much, you guys,” he tells them. He looks at Lydia, with her strong posture, to Kira, with her slightly puzzled look, to Malia, with that constant growl, to Danny, with furrowed eyebrows and Ethan, with his fists clenches, to Scott, giving him a concerned look, to the boy he doesn’t think he’s supposed to remember and finally to Derek.

Looking at him makes something inside of Stiles twist and turn and he can’t decide if it’s in a good or bad way.

Why is Derek looking at him like that?

What happened between them?

What doesn’t Stiles remembers?

Why is Malia kissing him?

“But you’re back,” Lydia says. “And the nogitsune is gone?”

“I think so, yeah,” he says. He has a feeling in his chest that the nogitsune – he isn’t entirely sure who or what that is just yet – is defiantly gone.

“We’ll have to check it out,” Scott says.

“I’ll do it,” Derek informs them.

“I’ll come with you,” Ethan says.

“What about you, Stiles?” Scott asks.

“I’d like to stay here for the night, if that’s okay?” he asks. Suddenly the thought of going back to his father seems unbearable.

“Sure,” Scott says. Then he looks at the younger boy is the chair who looks extremely uncomfortable and exclaims: “Oh, this is Liam. I forgot you hadn’t met. He’s my, eh, beta.”

Stiles lifts an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Scott says.

Stiles sends him a smile full of gratitude. “Is it okay if I go upstairs, I’m pretty tired?”

“Yeah, sure, man,” Scott says.

Stiles sends him another smile. Gives Lydia and Kira a quick “see you later” and returns the hug Malia gives him before he turns to go upstairs. Malia, to his surprise, follows him upstairs.

“No, I’m sorry,” he says. “I… just need to be alone.”

She looks heartbroken and it doesn’t suit her.

“Okay,” she says. “But don’t leave me.”

“Okay,” he says and the words taste bitter on his tongue.

Then he reaches Scott’s bedroom, enters, closes the door and locks it from the inside. He collapses onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

There’s something wrong. Something terribly wrong. Something or someone is responsible for his death and he intends to find who or what it is.

He closes his eyes.

For his inner eye he sees forests and burned down houses and closed doors.

When he opens them he gets up and quickly moves to where the mirror on the wall next to the closet hangs. He looks at himself for the first time since he woke up and he’s surprised to find that he looks fine and healthy. There are no bruises, there are no since of a fight, there’s not even any since of death.

And this is when he realizes: this is not his real body.

He tries to swallow but the lump in his throat is too big.

He has to find his own body.

He sits down on the floor with a sigh. 


	3. Chapter 2

_"Until you die for me, as long as there is a light, my shadow is over you_   
_Cause I am the opposite of amnesia_   
_And you're a cherry blossom_   
_You're about to bloom_   
_You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon"_

_-_ Fall Out Boy 

 

The leaves crunch beneath his feet as he wanders the distance between the McCall house and the reserve.

The moon hangs just above his head; large and shining. It casts its light down on the path he walks and makes it possible for him to see at least a hand ahead of himself.

When he was alive he was never too thrilled about the darkness but now he doesn’t mind. He’s aware that he is already dead and so he isn’t scared for himself anymore. Nothing can hurt him anymore because he is already out there somewhere; hurt beyond repair.

Behind him the McCall house shrinks until he can’t see it no more and the burden shrinks with it. Now that he can neither see nor feel the presence of his friends and family he feels free and for some reason also safer.

And a hideous thought hits him: what if it’s one of them…

But he quickly dismisses it. They wouldn’t. They’re all people who love him and who he loves and he would willingly give up his life to save them –

He stops. Maybe that’s what happened? Maybe he somehow sacrificed himself in order to safe someone else? But for who? And why?

He starts walking again. He’ll find no answers in the forest so he might as well continue onwards.

The wind sweeps over the country and makes the leaves dance in front of him.

Above him the moon is slowly making its way across the night sky.

He tries to imagine all the possible reasons for his death but none of them seem very plausible.

And then there’s the thing with the nogitsune kidnapping him and the memories he’s still missing for some reason. It makes it more difficult to solve the mystery when he’s missing so many of the pieces to the puzzle but he can’t exactly ask his friends about it, can he?

He sees the Hale house in front of him and he inhales deeply.

He walks up to it and enters without second guessing his actions.

The inside is exactly like he left it only it’s darker now.

He has no way to make it lighter but he doesn’t mind, his eyes quickly adjusts to the darkness surrounding him. He walks upstairs like before but there’s nothing new. All the rooms expect the one is empty. Downstairs there’s nothing new either. He notices that what he woke up against is a door and not a piece of the wall. When he twists the door handle, however, he learns that the door is locked but he doesn’t much care about it. He walks into the living room again and –

Stops dead in his track.

The couch still standing beneath the windows is occupied by someone.

And not just any someone but someone familiar.

Boyd.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do so he just stares at the figure sitting in front of him. And Boyd really does look too comfortable, too nonchalant, like this isn’t the first time he’s been on this particular couch in this particular house.

“What are you doing here?” Boyd suddenly asks. He doesn’t sound angry, he just sounds curious.

“I’m…” Stiles doesn’t know what to say.

“Stopping by?” Boyd suggests.

“Is that what you’re doing?” Stiles asks.

Boyd shrugs and gets up from the couch. His presence isn’t frightening but it isn’t calming either. Stiles almost feels like there’s a door standing open somewhere, allowing a wind to gently blow through the house, and Stiles had the need to close it – even though he knows it is just his imagination.

“How long have you’ve been here?” Boyd asks as he walks towards the kitchen.

Stiles follows. “You mean, in this house or on this earth?”

Boyd snorts. “Whatever you feel like answering.”

Stiles shrugs. “Since yesterday evening. A few hours, top.”

“Hm,” Boyd hums. He rooms around in the kitchen but he doesn’t pick up anything and eventually he returns to the living room with Stiles in a tow.

“What about you?” Stiles asks as he sits down on the couch next to Boyd.

“I drop by every now and again,” Boyd says nonchalant.

“But nothing permanent?” Stiles asks. 

“I have no reason to stay here permanently – even if I could.”

“Which you can’t,” Stiles clarifies.

Again Boyd answers with just a shrug.

“So,” Stiles says. “Where are you when you’re not here?”

Boyd looks at him out of the corner of his eyes and he actually smirks like the question amuses him. “Are you expecting an answer to that?”

Stiles sighs and runs a hand through his hair – it surprisingly smooth. “Not really, no,” he confesses.

“Good,” Boyd muses. “Well,” he says, “I have to get going.”

Stiles watches him get up from the couch and walk into the hallway. Then he gets up and follows him. Boyd is standing with one hand on the door handle and his body half turned toward Stiles.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Boyd tells him in all seriousness. “I can’t help you much but I can give you this. It’s all I’ve been able to gather, I hope it helps.”

Stiles opens his mouth to ask what he’s talking about when Boyd suddenly growls – and Stiles is more surprised than he probably should be that his dead friend can still growl at him – and then the world tilts and Stiles hits the floor hard.

\--

The girl – Malia – returns his kiss and he only feels empty and hallow because she isn’t Derek no matter how hard Stiles tries to forget it.

They’re on the couch in the basement of Econ House – the echo house. She has just returned to her human form after years and years of living like a coyote and he is miserable and heartbroken. It’s a dangerous mixture but he doesn’t care. She needs this, he needs this and he can’t think about anything else around him.

The world as he knows it slowly breaking to pieces; he is possessed and it is only a matter of time before the nogitsune breaks through and takes control of his body. His friends are all trying to protect him and at the same time safe each other and Derek is out there with them –

He trails kisses down her neck and when he inhales he can smell her sweet scent and when he touches her skin he can feel her warmth and for a moment nothing but this moment matters.

\--

“W-what?”

“You heard me.”

“Derek, you can’t be serious – “

“I am.”

“Come on – “

“No! Stiles this is the end.”

“The end? Stop being so fucking melodramatic, Derek, why – “

“I’m in love with someone else.”

“Oh. Jennifer Blake, is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But it’s her, right?”

“Stiles – “

“I deserve an answer!”

“No, you do not!”

“Fuck you!”

\--

There are tears in his eyes as he reaches forward but Derek pulls away from his touch.

“Come on, please,” he begs and his voice breaks.

“Stiles…”

“Come on. It’s over Derek, Jennifer is dead, and I need you – “

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles closes his eyes gets up. “No you’re not. You’re scared. You’re scared you might actually care about me – fuck, you’re scared you might love me. And so you would rather push me away than – “ His voice breaks again and he turns away from the werewolf.

“I’m sorry,” Derek repeats but Stiles just shakes his head and walks towards the door.

“Derek,” he whispers, because he knows he can hear him, “Please…”

\--

“Derek is gone,” Scott says and the look he sends Stiles is so full of sympathy Stiles can almost taste it.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Stiles asks.

“Cora and him… they left.”

\--

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s never going to work out.”

“So, what, you just leave whenever the fuck you feel like it and returns when – “

“Stop it!”

“Derek, we’ve been dating ever since I was sixteen and I held you in that fucking water for hours – “

“And it was a mistake from the very beginning.”

\--

He gasps and opens his eyes. He is still lying on the floor in the hallway. The door to the house is wide open and Boyd is long gone.

He inhales as he sits up and rubs his eyes. He looks out of the windows but the sky is still dark and the moon is still a long way from going down. He closes the door before he turns around to enter the living room again.

He isn’t even surprised when he finds Erica sitting on Boyd’s spot. Maybe he should be but he isn’t. Actually, he is happy to see her and that surprises him a bit.

“Hey, there, catwoman,” he says.

She looks at him and smirks. “Nice of you to drop by, batman.”

He snorts and sits down next to her. Maybe it’s just something he imagines but it feels like there’s a coldness radiating from her. He imagines touching her and shudders. She skin must feel freezing. “I think you’re the once dropping by, actually,” he informs her.

“Oh, is that so,” she says and crosses her arms and legs and leans against the armrest.

“Yeah,” he says and watches her.

She looks just like he remembers her. Her blonde hair wavers down her back, her eyes are bright and blue, her skin is white and pure, her lips are big and kissable, her fingers are long and strong and she wears a letter jacket and skinny jeans.

“Hm,” she says, still with that smirk on her lips, “am I wrong to assume that you are indeed dead?”

Stiles exhales. “No,” he says.

“Aha. Am I also not wrong in assuming that you’re not just dropping by like me?”

“Not like you, no,” he says. It feels weird, saying it out loud. Actually admitting that he’s dead, actually hearing the words out in the open; it makes him feel like he is violating some sacred rule.

 “But you won’t stay forever either?” she asks.

Suddenly a sentence rings loud and clear in his mind: _“Because you are here now and then you cannot be down there forever.”_

“No,” he sighs. “It won’t be forever.”

She doesn’t seem all that bothered with this, just hums, and places her feet in his lap. “I thought so,” she says. “Now, what have you’ve been up to?”

“Since I awoke here or since…” He can’t bring himself to say “you died” so he doesn’t.

“Both,” she grins.

And then he begins to explain. About the alpha-pack, about Derek and Scott trying to save them, about Allison breaking the seal and letting Boyd and Cora go. About Ethan and Aiden and Jennifer and the human sacrifices. About his father, Melissa and Mr. Argent being kidnapped. About Boyd’s death and the nemeton. About Jennifer’s death. He tells her about the nogitsune and about Kira and her foxfire. And he tells her about being possessed and about Allison and Aiden dying. And he tells her about not remembering what exactly happened to him.

Afterwards she doesn’t look the least bit faced about any of what he’s said. He always knew she was strong but death has still shaped her – he thinks she should be at least a little bit unnerved about some of what he’s just told her but she obviously isn’t. Death apparently changes people.

“And Derek?” she asks.

He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice. He’d hoped she’d forgotten. But of course she hasn’t.

“What about him?”

“Are you and him still going strong?” she sighs irritated and nudges him with her foot.

He exhales and that seems to be answer enough because she grunts in frustration.

“What happened?” she demands to be told.

Stiles closes his eyes for a brief second. The memories Boyd gave him are still too new for them to feel real and he is still trying to really come to terms with everything that happened.

“A lot of things,” he finally says.

She snorts. “You two were always so stubborn.”

“He told me he was in love with someone else,” Stiles tells her.

“And you believed him? God, I thought you were supposed to be smart, Stilinski.”

Stiles sends her an evil glare. “He fucked her.”

Erica just rolls her eyes.

“And then he left me.”

This time she doesn’t say anything. A silence that can neither be classified as comfortable or tense settles between them and Stiles tries not to think about how bizarre the situation is. Here he is, sitting next to Erica, her feet in his lap – Erica, who is dead. And it is only possible because he is dead, too.

“The others can’t see you?” he asks her, because he feels like he has to.

“I’ve never tried to be seen by them,” is her puzzling answer but he just nods. He understands.

“Did you know… Boyd, was you aware that he – “ He sighs heavily and Erica laughs at his distress.

“Did I know he was dead? Yes, I knew.”

“How?” Stiles asks.

She smirks and runs her tongue over her lips. “I just did,” and he knows he’s not supposed to ask any more questions.

“And Allison and Aiden, too?” he continues nevertheless.

“It’s a shame about Allison,” she says instead of answering his question. “She was a bitch and she nearly killed me a few times and maybe, if she hadn’t shot all those arrows at me and Boyd when her mother died, the alpha pack wouldn’t have caught us but,” she shrugs. “She was strong. She fought for what she believed in and if I’m totally honest she and I were probably a lot alike.”

Stiles laughs because he can’t help it. “You probably were,” he agrees. Erica growls but this time he takes it all in a stride and just smirks.

He doesn’t know why but sitting here, chatting with Erica about their dead friends, is more comfortable than talking with Scott or Lydia. It feels almost like he belongs here, next to Erica, and not with Scott and Lydia and his father and everyone.

A terrifying thought hits him: it’s like he belongs with the dead and not the living.

He sighs.

Erica nudges him with her foot again. “Entertain me,” she demands.

“How?” he asks.

“I don’t know, think of something.”

“Is being dead so boring?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m not really dead yet.”

“Are you not?”

He inhales sharply but doesn’t know what to say. He is dead, he knows this, but he is still not dead in the sense that Erica and Boyd are. They don’t belong in this world of the living anymore, Stiles knows this, and that is probably, he realizes, why they’re only visiting the Hale house; because, for whatever reason, this house is somehow between this world and the next – possibly, maybe, but he’s just guessing at this point. For all he knows Erica and Boyd spend all their time in Vegas among people who have no idea they’re supposed to be dead, using their badass werewolf abilities to cheat in poker and shit and win a lot of money so they can the live the sweet life they never got to live when they were actually alive.

He kind of likes that thought – Erica and Boyd deserved a better fate.

“You’re thinking,” Erica tells him.

“I am,” he agrees.

“About what?”

He looks at her. “You, actually. And Boyd. And how you didn’t deserve to die.”

“And you did?” she asks.

He sighs. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

She is silent for a moment before she says: “Do you know what happened to you?”

He shakes his head and hears her deep sigh.

“Then that’s what you have to figure out, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he mumbles.

“Okay,” she says and then she moves her feet and sits up straighter. She looks awake and allured. “What do you remember?”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows at her sudden enthusiasm and shrugs. “Waking up here,” he informs her. “I know that Allison and Aiden were killed and I remember that, vaguely, but apparently after that I passed out and the pack took me home to rest and then the nogitsune kidnapped me.”

“I thought the demon was inside of you?”

“It wasn’t a demon – anyway, it was but then it sort,” he makes some wild hands gestures, “got out. Sort of.”

“So it’s likely that the nogitsune killed you, right?” she asks.

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“It doesn’t feel like the nogitsune is alive,” he explains. “And if the nogitsune is dead then that means someone must’ve killed it, right?”

“Maybe you killed it,” she suggests. “And you both sort of died.”

He chews on his lip as he thinks about her words. He supposes it could be true and it’s not a bad theory. But then he still needs to find his body. For some reason he has a feeling that it will all make sense if he can just find his body, wherever it is.

When he looks at her again she’s watching him with a small smile on her lips and Stiles can’t help but return it.

“You know,” she says, “talking to you makes me miss being alive.”

Her words make him shudder. “Talking to you make me miss you being alive, too.”

She throws her head back and laughs before she gets up from the couch and walks into the hallways. He follows her. “You should worry more about yourself than me,” she says, “and Boyd and anyone else. We’re already dead, you can’t help us and you shouldn’t.”

“But like you said I’m dead too,” he says. “Why should I matter?”

Her smile gets bigger and a bit sadder. “You don’t know how special you are, do you?”

He doesn’t know how to respond to this so he keeps silent. She laughs again and then she opens the door. “Look,” she says, “have you ever read Harry Potter?”

The question startles him but he answers promptly: “Of course.”

She smirks. “Then remember: Don’t pity the dead, pity the living.”

Stiles smiles and Erica winks before she leaves through the front door. She doesn’t close the door behind her and Stiles sees her walk towards the tree-line before the shadows cover her in darkness and he knows she isn’t in this world anymore. He doesn’t know where she is but he hopes Boyd is there too.

He waits about ten minutes before he too leaves the Hale house. He better get back to the McCall house before Scott wakes up and notices he absence.


	4. chapter 3

_“Unbeing dead isn't being alive.”_

― E.E. Cummings

 

 

He awakens to the sound of someone entering the guest room. At first he pretends like he hasn’t heard but eventually he comes to the conclusion that he better open his eyes and when he does he finds Malia leaning over him and he yelps.

“Oh my God, you scared me,” he exhales and sits up straighter in the bed. She grins and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“I missed you,” she tells him like it’s a matter of facts.

He doesn’t know how to answer. Now that he has the memories Boyd gave him he is sure of one thing: he never gave Malia any promises. It only happened once, in that basement, and after that they were both released from Econ House and –

Then he was apparently kidnapped by the nogitsune and she must’ve found his pack afterwards.

“Malia,” he says when she crawls towards him on the bed. He holds out a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry I’ve given you the wrong impression but…”

She sits up immediately. “But what?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not… in love with you.”

She blinks. “I know,” she tells him. “I can smell it on you.”

He pretends not to be bothered with the fact that she is smelling his emotions and says: “Then why are you here?”

She furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

Stiles sighs and realizes that proper communication with this girls will take some time. “Okay, just – don’t kiss me, Malia, all of the sudden.”

She frowns. “Can I kiss you know?”

“No. I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“Derek.”

He looks at her with furrowed eyebrows but she just shrugs. “Your pack filled me in.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything, mostly because there’s nothing left to say. What happened happened and that is it, really. Derek broke up with him and now that the memories have had time to settle in he can feel them in his system again and he can taste them on the tip of his tongue and god he wishes they weren’t real because they still hurt so much.

“Scott is making breakfast,” she informs him. “You want some?”

“Why are you – you know what, never mind. Yeah, I’m coming.”

She shoots him a smile before she goes downstairs. He shakes his head and sighs before he grabs a pair of Scott’s jeans and the old t-shirt from yesterday. He still isn’t sure what going on but if this is a game then he can play pretend if he has to.

He goes downstairs where he finds Scott and Malia already at the table eating pancakes and drinking coffee. Stiles sits down next to Scott and fills his plate with pancakes. The thought occurs to him that he might not be able to eat but since everything else about him seems normal enough he dismisses the thought and pours himself a large cup of coffee.

“So, Derek and Ethan checked out the nogitsune thing and as far as they’ve gathered the thing is dead,” Scott tells him. “I mean, so far so good, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says and eats a bite.

“We still don’t know what happened to you though,” Scott frowns.

“I know,” Stiles sighs.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I told you, the details are hazy. I woke up in the Hale house and walked down here – “

“The Hale house?” Scott interrupts.

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugs. He looks at his friend but he seems very concerned all of the sudden if the look of pure worry on his face is anything to go by. “Why, what’s with that look?”

“Stiles, the Hale house has been torn down. Derek sold the estate, some rich guy is rebuilding there or something but for the time being there are only ruins.”

Stiles clenches his jaw tight and thinks fast: what the fuck is he supposed to say now?

“I don’t understand,” is what he settles on. “It must’ve been somewhere else, but… I was so certain it was there.”

“Where in the Hale house exactly?” Scott asks.

“Next to the staircase,” Stiles shrugs indifferently.

Scott frowns and looks at Malia but the girl doesn’t seem all that interested in their conversation so he turns his attention back to Stiles.

“I’ll go check it out,” he informs him.

“I’ll come with you,” Stiles says and gets up.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Scott asks him concerned as he puts a comforting hand on his best friend’s arm. Stiles gives him a reassuring smile.

“I can handle it, Scotty,” he promises him and Scott nods. “By the way, what happened to my jeep?”

“It went missing along with you,” Scott tells him. “The nogitsune probably used it to kidnap you somewhere.”

“Crap,” Stiles sighs.

“We’ll see if we can find it,” Scott promise as he holds the door open for Malia and Stiles. Stiles nods but in all honesty he isn’t all that concerned about his jeeps whereabouts. It’s not like it matters that much anyway.

Malia jogs off to her own house and Stiles and Scott heads off to the reserve. Scott tells him about school as they walk and he tells him about the pack searching for him and from Stiles can gather he’s been missing for four days. It’s not too bad, he thinks, it could most definitely be worse.

They reach the reserve and go in the direction of the Hale house but Stiles already knows what they’ll find. When they reach the clearing where the old Hale house used to be he isn’t the least bit surprised to find only a large pile of ruins surrounded by a small fence to keep animals and introducers away.

“Well,” he says, “that clarifies it then.”

Scott doesn’t seem satisfied as he steps forward. Stiles stays by the tree line. He doesn’t know _what_ will happen if he steps closer; if the ruins will suddenly transform into the actual house again or how this works but he better not risk anything.

When Scott has examined the house throughout and walked around the fence at least five times he returns to Stiles and sighs. “There’s nothing there,” he tells Stiles and the taller boy nods and they head back home.

“I don’t understand,” Scott mumbles. “Maybe we should talk to Deaton.”

Stiles isn’t too thrilled about the idea, you never know what kind of knowledge about the living or dead Deaton holds, but he can’t really voice his worries so he just shrugs and follows Scott out of the woods.

Back at the McCall house he shoots his father a quick text not to worry and then goes downstairs in the living room where Scott and the newly arrived Kira are sitting.

“So,” Stiles says and nods his head, “do you guys need some alone time?”

Scott, who was busy staring at Kira like she hung the stairs on the night sky, splutters and glares at his friend but Stiles just grins as Kira turns bright red in the head.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says and turns around to leave.

“You misunderstand – “ he hears Scott yell from behind him.

“It’s okay, Scotty-boy,” Stiles interrupts, “you always were so good at giving me and D our space I’m only doing the same for you!” and then he’s out of the front door before they can argue any more.

His smile falters the second he’s alone and he starts walking back to the Hale house without even thinking about. He feels like something is drawing him there but he isn’t sure what it is just yet. For the time being he is just going to let whatever it is pull at him and then he can try and fight it later – if he wants to but he doubts it. Already he feels me more at ease among the dead than among the living and he doesn’t know whether that’s a good or a bad sign.

When he reaches the house he isn’t surprised to see that it’s back to being an actual house and he smiles as he steps inside.

There is no one in the living room, neither is there anyone in the kitchen or upstairs and the door to what he assumes is the basement remains locked so he has come to the conclusion he is alone for good.

With a sigh he walks back into the living room and sits down on the couch and ponders over what he’s gathered so far in the world of the living:

Since he is dead he must assume that he sacrificed himself for someone or in other ways died willingly, died because of an accident or was killed.

If he assumes he was murdered then there’s the possibility it was the nogitsune. In that case it is also very plausible that he and the nogitsune – assuming that it really is dead – died at the same time and because of one another. There’s of course also the possibility that is was someone else who murdered him. Maybe someone murdered both him and the nogitsune or maybe someone murdered one of them first and then the other. Of course, it also possibly that he killed the nogitsune, survived, and then was killed by someone else. Maybe the time gap of four days has nothing to do with being sent back from elsewhere but is simply because he was actual held a prisoner by someone for four days before they decided to kill him.

He sighs and closes his eyes before he sits lies down on the couch and exhales. There’s no way he can just figure this out. Either he has to do look for some clues and hopefully stumble over something or he has to hope the pack finds something while they’re looking. Unless, of course, they’ve come to the conclusion that it was the nogitsune who is already dead in which case they might just drop the hunt altogether.

Stiles sits up again, deciding that it won’t help anything to stay miserably in the Hale house. 

He walks back home through the woods.

Maybe he shouldn’t try to solve this… A sudden thought hits him: if he just doesn’t find his own body and never figures out what happened to him will he stay here? Will he get another change of life?

He shudders at the thought and realizes that unless something vital inside of him changes he doesn’t want to get another change. He doesn’t belong in the world of the living but he also doesn’t belong in the kingdom of the dead just yet.

Maybe he doesn’t belong anywhere and maybe he is doomed to wander aimlessly around on earth until –

He stops abruptly and turns around to examine the trees.

His eyes search the forest around him but he finds nothing. He furrows his eyebrows, clenches his jaw and turns back around.

He is halfway to the McCall house when he hears it again: the sound of footsteps behind him. He spins around again but there is no one there. At least not anyone Stiles can see. Nevertheless he takes a step forward and lets his eyes run over the grass, the leaves, the –

“Derek,” Stiles says surprised. “What are you doing?”

The older male steps forward from where he’s been hiding and sighs. “I was watching you,” he informs the human darkly.

“Okay?” Stiles says. “Is there a particular reason – “

“You were just kidnapped, Stiles! You can’t just wander around in the woods like this!”

The distress in Derek’s voice surprises him because he can so easily recall the time Derek told him he was in love with someone else or when Derek kissed Jennifer right in front of him just to make a point or the day Scott had to tell him that Derek had left them with no note no nothing and was possibly never coming back.

“It’s not your concern,” Stiles bites and there is venom on his tongue.

Derek furrows his eyebrows. “Why is that?”

“My wellbeing stopped being your concern a long time ago, Derek,” he says bitterly and turns around to leave.

“You’re being stupidly stubborn,” Derek informs him as he follows him through the woods.

“No, _you_ are,” Stiles says. “You don’t have to babysit me – “

“Mind telling me what you were doing in the reserve?” Derek cuts him off.

“What, you’re going to tell me its private property or something?” and Stiles manages an angry laughter.

“Stiles – “

“No,” the humans says and turns around again. Derek is suddenly very close and Stiles can actually reach out and touch him. “You don’t get to be the biggest asshole to ever walk on this earth and then suddenly care about me again, okay? There are certain privileges that are preserved to boyfriends only and that is one of them.”

Derek’s nostrils flare. “Does Malia have a share in those privileges?”

Stiles is taken aback by the question and for a while he doesn’t answer. Then he feels the anger boil inside of him anew. “Maybe,” he spits. “But it is none of your fucking business, Derek!”

“What if I care about you?” he suddenly asks.

Stiles closes his eyes clenches his fists. He can’t deal with this shit, he is not supposed to deal with this shit, this isn’t what he agreed to when he said yes to come back. Derek doesn’t love him, Derek hasn’t loved him since Jennifer put her claws into him and Stiles – Stiles hates that because he loves Derek with every fiber of his body but that doesn’t mean that the asshole can just say stuff like that whenever he feels like it, making Stiles’ heart flutter in his chest.

“You don’t get to care about me anymore,” Stiles tells him, his eyes still closed.

“But I do,” Derek whispers and takes a step forward.

Stiles doesn’t dare to open his eyes, he doesn’t even dare to breathe. And then Derek touches him lightly on the cheek and he has to look.

Derek is standing right in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed and a million unanswered questions in his eyes.  “You’re warm,” he says and Stiles doesn’t know what to do so he nods.

Then Derek takes a step back and swallows hard. “You should probably go.”

Stiles’ heart misses so many beats it’s probably good he’s already dead or he might’ve had a stroke. “Yes,” he says, voice slightly strained. He turns around one final time and leaves before Derek can say anything else.

\--

“Are you planning on going home anytime soon?” Scott asks him when he reenters the McCall house.

“Why, you need the house to be empty for some reason?” he asks and winks.

Scott sighs and it’s not an exhausted sigh, there is a hint of sadness to it and immediately Stiles feels bad. He walks into the kitchen and sits down in front of his best friend.

“Dude, are you okay?” he asks carefully and puts a hand on his arm.

“Yeah, it’s just… this thing with Kira I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he mumbles.

“Because of Allison?” Stiles asks and his own voice breaks as he says her name.

Scott looks up and meets Stiles’ eyes. “I miss her so much,” he whispers.

Stiles swallows hard. “I know,” he says. “I do too.”

“Sometimes I don’t know how to live without her,” Scott confesses. “If it weren’t for you I probably wouldn’t be able to.”

The words cuts through Stiles like knives, stabbing into him over and over until he’s on the floor bleeding out with sorrow and regret and pain.

“Scott,” Stiles whispers, his voice strained with regret and tears, “you have to…”

He can’t even finish the sentence.

“Stiles, don’t worry about me,” Scott quickly says and shoots his friend a somewhat happy smile.

“But I do worry about you,” Stiles says. “And I don’t want you to depend on me.”

Scott furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to be able to function even when I’m not here,” Stiles says and his throat tightens around the lump.

Scott shakes his head like he doesn’t understand what Stiles is saying exactly and then he smiles for real. “Seriously, stop worrying about me. It is you we should worry about. We have to figure out what happened to you – “

“Tomorrow,” Stiles cuts him off. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow. Right now I could use a gaming night.”

Scott grins. “I’m game,” he says.

“That’s my boy!”

\--

He wakes up sometime after four a.m. and walks downstairs carefully. Scott is fast asleep in his own bedroom and Melissa is at work so sneaking out is fairly easy.

He pulls on his shoes, grabs his coat and uses his phone as a light to guide him because the moon is hidden behind the thick layer of clouds covering the night sky.

The walk back to the Hale house already feels familiar, like he could walk the distance in his sleep and maybe it’s just something he imagines but he is certain he gets their quicker than he did the first time. It can’t take much more than fifteen minutes to get from Scott’s to the Hale’s.

When he sees the house in front of him – big and somehow threatening in the darkness – he thinks about everything that’s happened there; about all the people who’ve died on this ground and he doesn’t feel afraid – he feels at home.

The door is ajar and he furrows his eyebrows slightly as he enters. The first thing he does is check the living room but there’s no one there; dead or alive. He slowly enters the kitchen but it’s empty. Then he goes upstairs and checks every room individually and finally the main bedroom. When he opens the door he is surprised to find that there’s no one in there.

With a frown he turns around and –

Yelps in surprise and staggers several steps back until he stumbles and falls. Apparently death didn’t make him graceful after all.

Aiden throws his head back and laughs before he offers Stiles his hand.

Stiles snorts but takes it nevertheless and Aiden pulls him up effortlessly.

“Your face, it was precious!” Aiden laughs.

“Well sorry I wasn’t prepared for you sneaking up on me like that I mean holy God Aiden is it too much to ask that you announce your presence or some shit before your scare me half to death?”

Aiden tilts his head and watches him in amusement. “You’re already dead. And not only half.”

“I’m aware,” Stiles growls and walks past the other teen to the staircase.

“Are you?” Aiden asks as he follows Stiles downstairs.

Stiles rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother with answering him. “How are you?” he asks instead.

“Still very dead,” Aiden deadpans. “You?”

“Also very dead.”

“How did it happen?” Aiden wonders as they sit down on the couch.

Stiles sighs and shrugs. “I have no idea,” he tells the werewolf honestly. “Maybe it was the nogitsune.”

“No way,” Aiden says. “I thought you defeated that shit while Ethan, Derek and I fought those onis?”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles sighs and can’t bear to look at Aiden, “we didn’t. Apparently it kidnapped me, I’m assuming that it also killed me.”

Aiden is looking at him with furrowed eyebrows but Stiles ignores him. He can’t stand to actually look at him and be confronted with the very brutal reality that Aiden died in vain. Just like Allison. And Erica and Boyd and –

“What’s with that look?” Aiden asks.

Stiles grimaces before he shakes his head and leans his head back against the couch. “I’m just… tired.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’d rather be here?”

“Yes.”

“That’s strange,” Aiden hums before he gets up from the couch. Stiles wonders if he should follow him but argues against it and closes his eyes shut instead.

He can hear Aiden room around in the kitchen and later also the hallway but eventually he returns and sits back down again and Stiles doesn’t ask him what he was doing.

“There’s someone who really wants to talk to you but can’t,” he suddenly says and Stiles eyes opens.

“What do you mean?” he asks confused.

“What I said,” Aiden continues. His voice is slightly different, Stiles notices, there’s a hint of sympathy in it now. “There’s someone who’d love to say hello but can’t.”

“Who is it?” Stiles asks and sits up straighter on the couch.

Aiden clenches his jaw before he moves his head to return Stiles glare: “Your mother.”

A shiver runs down Stiles’ spine and for a split second the world is different: spinning, moving, changing. But then he inhales sharply and gets up from the couch as if he’s ready to search the world for his dead mother’s ghost.

“You can’t meet her,” Aiden said with regret in his voice.

“Why not?” Stiles hisses angrily.

“I don’t make the rules,” Aiden sighs.

“Who does then?”

“It’s just a saying, Stiles.”

Stiles finally gives up and returns to the couch. He pulls his legs up and wraps his arms protectively around them. Suddenly he feels ten years old again and he wants to see his mother.

“She loves you very much,” Aiden continues and his voice is strange – foggy, almost, like he’s heavily sedated. “But there are matters she has to attend to. She can’t do much at the moment. But she wants you to remember that sometimes the point of the game is to keep playing, and sometimes a sacrifice must be made in order to do so.”

Stiles shuts his eyes closed to keep the fresh, salty tears from running down his cheeks. Breathing is suddenly harder so he just holds his breath and counts to ten very slowly. Next to him Aiden is sitting very, very still. When Stiles exhales he continues, like he’s been waiting for Stiles: “Love is different for everyone. Love cannot be measured in years or distances, it cannot be measured in good and bad – and sometimes it can’t even be measured in whether someone says ‘I love you’ or not. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t love.”

Stiles can’t take it anymore. He gets up from the couch, practically runs through the house to the hallway, stumbles out of the front door and down the porch. Before he can stop himself he is running as fast as he can through the forest, careful not to run into any trees.

\--

“You look tired, dude, did you get any sleep at all last night?” Scott asks him the next morning.

Stiles just shakes his head and sits down at the table. When he’d gotten home from the Hale house Aiden’s words had been one repeat in his head. Whether they’re actually his mother’s words or not he can’t say for sure. His mother was a straight-forward, honest woman who never liked riddles because she wasn’t good at solving things. When she was alive she would’ve never said anything that frustratingly vague but then again: she isn’t alive and neither is he and maybe there really are rules that needs to be followed.

For some reason it’s the thing about love that seems most important. The whole thing about sacrifice and keep on playing a game is too much nonsense, if he has to be honest. All it tells him is that maybe his death was in fact a sacrifice. But then he doesn’t get what the whole ‘keep on playing the game’ has to do with sacrificing himself. Unless it’s someone else who has to keep on playing the game and not him. He sighs.

_It cannot be measured in good and bad._

What does that even mean? That sometimes people do bad things to you but they still love you? That doesn’t seem to fit with anything his student counselor has ever told him. But if, for argument sake, he assumes that the statement is correct, then does that mean that it really is possibly someone from his own pack killed him? As an act of love?

He looks up at Scott in front of him who’s texting and shoving eggs into his mouth.

Stiles doesn’t want to think about because it hurts too much but he supposes that…

People have died for less, he thinks. Dying for love doesn’t seem so bad after all. But then again; it just words from his dead mother spoken by a dead werewolf it is possibly she or he or whoever send the message has no idea what’s really going on and is only trying to confuse him even more than he already is.

He sighs and plants his head against the edge of the table.

Scott laughs and pats his head.

Stiles can’t help but wonder if he killed him with those hands, too.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI I'm terrible at writing smut. Sorry.

_Did you find it hard to breathe?_

_Did you cry so much that you could barely see?_

_Did you break but never mend?_

_Did it hurt so much you thought it was the end?_

 – The Script

 

 

“Son,” his father speaks harshly.

“Dad,” Stiles says and swallows hard. “What are you doing – “

“It’s been three days already, you need to stop avoiding me and come home.”

Stiles looks and him, their eyes meet and none of them look away. Finally, Stiles crumbles under his father’s stare and he nods. “Okay.”

The sheriff sighs with relief and leans against the doorframe as Stiles disappears upstairs to grab the clothes he’d worn when he first arrived. For some reason he doesn’t want to throw it away – maybe it’s because it belonged to Derek and he likes the thought of wearing something he’s worn. It’s like when they were dating and Stiles would wake up and grab the first and the best piece of clothes he could find before he wadded out into the kitchen to make coffee – and more often than not he’d be wearing some shirt of Derek’s and also more often than not he’d be wearing it all day with Derek just rolling his eyes and letting him. The first couple of months with Derek had been surprisingly easy despite all the horrors and terrors filling their life. One day they just decided to date and so they did and for a long while it was perfect. Until Derek broke up with him, pulled his heart out of his chest, broke it and scattered the pieces.

“I’ll talk to you later, Scotty,” Stiles promise as he hugs his friend goodbye.

“Yeah. We have to go back to school tomorrow or my mother we’ll get a flip.”

Stiles laughs but makes no promises as he follows his father into his car.

The drive home is silent but Stiles doesn’t mind. He has nothing to say to his father anymore. It’s like all the words are stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him to death.

“Son,” the sheriff says when they pull into the driveway. “I want you to be honest with me – “

“I don’t remember what happened,” Stiles tells him. “I really, really don’t. I think the nogitsune is dead, though. I don’t know how. I don’t know who rescued me, if I killed the nogitsune, I really don’t. I’m sorry.”

And he is sorry – he is sorry he is putting his father through this when this is the last thing he deserves.

The sheriff looks at him and Stiles can’t help but want to pull him into a hug. He doesn’t do it, however, because somewhere inside of him he knows he is different from his father; he is not alive and he can’t go around getting attached to living people and getting living people attached to him because he won’t stay in this world forever – there are other places that he needs to be and he can’t possibly explain this to his family or pack.

“I’m sorry too son. I’m sorry I didn’t find, I’m sorry – “

“No, please don’t do that,” Stiles begs. “This is not your fault. It isn’t. You didn’t do this, dad.”

“But I should’ve – “

“No!” Stiles opens the car door and gets up. His father is right behind him but Stiles doesn’t care. “This isn’t your fault, okay, it just isn’t. And I don’t want you to blame yourself for something you didn’t do because that just isn’t fair and – “

“Okay, son, breathe!”  

The sheriff places a gentle hand on Stiles’ shoulder and for a moment he allows it to stay. He inhales sharply through his nose before he exhales and takes a step forward.

“I’m okay,” he mumbles and opens the front door. Just as he’s about to enter he notices the jeep parked next to the sidewalk. “Where did that come from?”

“Derek dropped by last night with it,” the sheriff tells him. The thought of Derek has Stiles clenching his fists. He doesn’t want to think about the older male anymore – it’s hurting him. He steps inside without saying anything else.

\--

His father doesn’t tell him to go to school the next day or the day after that. Scott checks in on him but he has nothing new to report. Stiles doesn’t hear from Derek or anyone else. Malia is the only who drops by one evening but when he tells her he’s just tired she informs him that he’s lying and leaves.

When the Sheriff leaves on the fifth morning Stiles makes a decision to go to the Hale house again. He’s been keeping his distant in an attempt to clear his mind after what happened the last time he was there but he has reached no conclusion on anything so he sees no reason not to go anymore. Besides, he feels like he’s suffocating in his own bedroom and his father’s worried looks are killing him.

He takes the jeep this time but he doubts he gets there any sooner than he would’ve have had he just walked the distance.

The house is as dark and unwelcoming as ever but he still can’t but feel like he breathes more easily when he enters.

As soon as he is in the hallway he knows he isn’t alone. Preparing himself for whoever it might be he enters the living room. When he sees a familiar mob of curls and broad shoulder he furrows his eyebrows confused.

“Isaac?” he asks and takes a step forward.

The boy turns around and it is indeed Isaac Lahey standing in the old Hale house’s living room wearing a casual grin and sparkling, blue eyes.

“Stiles,” he says and nods his head.

“Isaac, what the hell are you doing here?” Stiles asks and shakes his head in confusion. This doesn’t make any sense, Isaac is not supposed to be here, he’s supposed to still be in France, this is not a place for the living, this is a place only for the dead, how the hell –

He staggers backwards, eyes wide and mouth half-open and he stares at Isaac with disbelief in his eyes. Isaac sees his expression and his smile disappears and is replaced with sadness.

“No,” Stiles whispers. “No, this can’t be. Y-you can’t be… Isaac, please tell me this isn’t real.”

“I can’t,” the werewolf breathes.

Stiles clenches his eyes shut, feels the tears sting his eyes, feels his shoulders tremble and his fingers shake. His legs feel weak all of the sudden and he tumbles forward without even realizing it.

Isaac catches him and his arms are real and strong and –

He is cold. His skin is cold underneath Stiles’ searching fingertips.

Just like Erica’s.

Stiles opens his mouth and a broken sob breaks through him and he reaches out and curls his hands around Isaac’s shirt as he leans his forehead against his collarbone and cries.

“No,” he sobs, feeling the tears stain his cheeks and sobs ruin his body. “No, _no_ , it can’t be, no, no, NO!”

“It’s okay,” Isaac whispers as he runs his hands down Stiles’ back and finally wraps his arms around his body and holds him tight.

“No!” Stiles practically screams. He is crying so hard he can barely breathe but he doesn’t know how to stop because here he is, in Isaac Lahey’s arms, and it’s only possibly because they are both dead and Isaac doesn’t deserve to be dead! He deserves to be alive and well and he deserves to be in France trying to get over Allison and he deserves the world and yet here he is in Stiles’ arms and the boy wasn’t prepared for him, no one told him he could just suddenly run into a dead Isaac, and it’s so much worse than with Erica or Boyd or Aiden because Isaac has to be alive. He _has_ to.

“It’s okay,” Isaac whispers over and over again but Stiles doesn’t believe him. This can never be okay – Isaac in his arms like this will never be okay.

When he is finally able to pull away he feels exhausted and when Isaac gentle lift him up in his arms and carries him upstairs to the main bedroom and places him carefully on the bed he doesn’t protest.

“It’s okay,” Isaac says one last time before he closes the door behind him and leaves Stiles alone. The tears still stream silently down his cheeks and he can’t stop them. The world is an unfair, ruthless, painful place and he can’t wait till he’s not a part of it anymore.

He cries himself asleep.

\--

When he stumbles out of bed he doesn’t dare check what the time says. He looks out of the window and sighs when he sees that the sky is dark. He rubs a hand over his face and goes downstairs where he finds Isaac sitting by the kitchen table. He is humming and he looks comfortable and at home but still Stiles wants to shout that he has to get out, get away, that he can’t stay here. He knows it won’t matter, he knows it’s too late but he can’t accept it.

“Morning,” Stiles says and Isaac smirks when he sits down in front of him.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” Stiles mumbles.

Isaac shrugs. “I didn’t know if I should wake you up but you looked so comfortable I couldn’t bear to so.”

“You probably should’ve.” Stiles tilts his head. “Wait, are you saying you watched me sleep and thought I looked too adorable to wake up?”

Isaac snorts. “Don’t have so high thought about yourself, Stilinski,” he tells him.

“Oh, I will have so high thoughts, thank you very much, Lahey,” he hums and rests his head in his hand. “You think I’m adorable.”

“At least when you’re sleeping you’re not talking nonsense,” Isaac hisses but Stiles just laughs.

A silence settles between them and Stiles can’t help but stare at Isaac. He looks exactly the same, maybe even a bit healthier than the last time he saw him right after Allison’s death. There is no indication that he isn’t actually alive and yet…

“Who’s staring at whom now?” Isaac smirks.

“What happened?” Stiles whispers like he’s half-hoping Isaac won’t hear him.

Isaac looks up and catches his eyes and shrugs like it doesn’t really matter. “I’d only been with my new pack in France for about half a day when they were attacked,” he explains. “Another pack killed almost all of them and kidnapped a few of the youngest. We were three. They killed us after a few hours. When the hunters finally showed up it was too late and they had no way of identifying who we were. Besides, no one really knew I’d arrived so… Well, anyway they buried us in the forest and checked if any teenagers were missing but of course not. Chris was with some family and had no idea what had happened to me or the others. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

Stiles doesn’t want to imagine Isaac’s body buried somewhere random in France. He _deserves_ –

“Stop that,” Isaac hisses and Stiles looks up in surprise.

“Stop what?” he asks.

“That face you’re making, it’s annoying.”

Stiles snorts and sighs. “It’s just… you deserve so much better.”

It’s Isaac’s turns to sigh deeply. He even rolls his eyes. “Erica told me you would say something like that.”

Stiles looks up abruptly. “You see Erica?”

Isaac looks away. “From time to time, yeah.”

“And Boyd? Allison?” Stiles has to ask.

Isaac sends him a glare that clearly states that he has to shut up and so he does. Stiles can’t decide if the silence is comfortable or tense but he has nothing to say and he doesn’t want to leave so he leaves it be and focuses on his fingers twisting in his lap.

“I know that you don’t know what happened to you,” Isaac suddenly says and Stiles looks up again and is surprised at how concerned Isaac looks. “And I know I can’t do much to help but… I just want you to know that you deserved something better as well, no matter what happened to you. You did, Stiles.”

Stiles opens his mouth but no words leaves his mouth so eventually he closes it again and looks away. The thought that Isaac might be sad over his death hadn’t even occurred to him and it still feels weird – maybe it’s because he doesn’t yet feel dead.

“When… when the pack figures out that you’re not, you know, alive,” Isaac continues, “it’s going to break them. Especially Scott. Losing you and Allison? What if he’s not going to get through it?” His voice breaks on those last few words and Stiles has to close his eyes.

He reaches out and finds Isaac’s hand. He isn’t sure what’s really going on when he intertwines their fingers together and even less so when Isaac gives his hand a supporting squeeze.

“I’m more concerned about what he’s going to do when he finds out that… that you’re not…” He can’t even bring himself to say it out loud.

“He’ll manage,” Isaac tells him but Stiles doesn’t believe him in the slightest.

“And until then?” Stiles asks.

“Until what?” Isaac asks.

“Until they figure out we’re dead?”

“Well,” Isaac shrugs, “you can always go back play living for a little while longer.”

“I don’t want to,” Stiles breathes and his eyes lands on where their hands are still connected.

“I know,” Isaac whispers and Stiles doesn’t bother asking how he knows.

“My father must be worried sick,” he says but even though he feels remorse and regret it’s like all his feeling are vaguer, like they don’t matter as much as they used to. He can ignore them, if he wants to. That is a strange thought.

“What do you want?” Isaac whispers and Stiles feels something like an electric shock pulse through his body and he gasps and looks up and catches Isaac’s piercing blue eyes.

“Your hand is cold,” he informs him.

“The perks of being dead,” he snorts.

Stiles doesn’t say anything, just gets up from his chair without letting go of Isaac’s hands, places himself oddly gracefully in the other teen’s lap and puts a hand on his neck.

Isaac never looks away from Stiles eyes and he returns the human’s stare without blinking. None of them move or say anything for a long while and then Stiles leans down and kisses Isaac.

Maybe it’s because he wants to, maybe it’s because he needs to, maybe it’s out of curiosity or maybe it’s just because he is dead and Isaac is dead and nothing else matters but the two of them in that moment.

Isaac’s lips are cold but still feel amazing against Stiles’ own. His tongue is warm and sweet and it sweeps into his mouth effortlessly. Isaac places both hands on Stiles’ hips and holds him in place while the human works his mouth against Isaac’s. He has one hand on his chest and another on his neck. The one on his neck moves up to his hair and he runs it through the smooth, familiar curls.

Stiles can feel his body slowly react to the somewhat human contact it’s experiencing and he groans into Isaac’s mouth.

They kiss for a long time, probably also longer than they would’ve been able to had they both been alive and breathing.

When Stiles finally leans back slightly to inhale Isaac immediately attacks his neck with his mouth and starts sucking and kissing and biting and just generally bruising and marking it. Stiles doesn’t want to tell him not to because he doesn’t have crazy werewolf healing abilities and someone will see and it will raise questions.

Isaac’s tongue runs up his neck, along his jawline, over his bottom lip and up to his ear and Stiles shudders and tightens his grip on the beautiful, soft curls.

They don’t say anything and the only sound in the room is their occasionally moans or groans. Stiles can feel himself getting hard but luckily so is Isaac. When Stiles starts moving his hips the other teen responds with bucking up his own hips and Stiles can’t help but grin before he connects their mouths again in another heated kiss.

They sit there, grinding and kissing, for a long time before Isaac manages to push the chair away from the table and pick up Stiles who wraps his legs around Isaac’s hips like he’s never done anything else.

Yet again he is taken upstairs by the dead werewolf. Isaac is kissing his neck again and Stiles moans and yanks at his hair.

Isaac drops him on the bed and crawls on top of him immediately. Stiles starts pulling at his white t-shirt and Isaac pulls it over his head with a snort. Stiles runs his hands down Isaac’s bare torso and his skin is freezing but Stiles doesn’t mind.

Isaac leans down again and attacks his mouth, pushing his tongue into Stiles’ mouth eagerly and Stiles sucks and groans and runs his fingernails down Isaac’s back.

Isaac starts working on the bottoms of his jeans and suddenly everything is going too slow and Stiles has this urgent feeling that they’re running out of time.

He pulls his own t-shirt over his head before he connects their lips again. Meanwhile Isaac pulls his own jeans and boxers down before he starts working on Stiles’.

Not ten seconds later and they’re both naked and grinding against one another, their dicks rubbing and their hands rooming all over each other’s bodies. Stiles wants to taste and bite and pull and yank and ruin and Isaac lets him. When Stiles turns them over so Isaac is on his back the werewolf doesn’t say anything. Stiles kisses his way down his stomach, down to his thighs and his cock. He looks at it and then back up at Isaac who’ watching him dark eyes and hands above his head as if he’s trying to restrain himself from forcing Stiles down on his cock. He doesn’t need to because Stiles wets his lips with his tongue and kisses the head once before he takes it into his mouth and starts sucking.

Isaac groans and buckles up his hips. Stiles closes his eyes and relaxes his gag reflex as he takes in more of Isaac into his mouth. He starts sucking, while his tongue swirls around the shaft. What he can’t get into his mouth he jerks off with his right hand. He bobs his head up and down and feels a bit of salvia run down his cheek.

Isaac moans and groans and gasps but he doesn’t actually say anything and eventually Stiles feels rough hands in his hair pull him away. The same hands pulls him up and into another kiss and Stiles knows Isaac can taste himself in Stiles’ mouth.

This time it’s Isaac who turns them around and crawls on top of Stiles. He starts grinding their dicks together again and Stiles opens his mouth in a silent moan.

Then Isaac sits back up, looks down at Stiles with those dark eyes and moves his hand so it is in front of Stiles’ face. He doesn’t have to be told what he’s supposed to do; he opens his mouth willingly and starts sucking on three of Isaac’s fingers. The thought of what those fingers are about to do makes him shudder with anticipation.

Finally Isaac takes them out of his mouth and moves back. Stiles hands him a pillow and Isaac lift his hip gently so he has better access. His fingers run over Stiles’ hole and the boy shudders. Then he carefully pushes one inside and starts moving it in and out. It doesn’t hurt and Stiles doesn’t know if this is another perk of being dead or whatever but he is not going to complain anytime soon.

Just like the first that second and the third finger slips in just as easily and at this point he’s twisting and turning and he has to bite his tongue not to beg Isaac to put his dick inside of him.

When he feels tender kisses being trailed down his thighs he looks up and meets Isaac’s eyes. He inhales sharply and nods and Stiles nods as well and then he pushes inside in one long thrust and Stiles’ back arches up and he grabs the bed sheets desperately.

The thrusts are long and slow at first and Stiles groans loudly. But then Isaac leans in over him, Stiles wraps a hand around his neck and the thrust becomes harder and faster and Isaac hits his prostate and Stiles keens underneath him, shivers running down his spine.

He comes first and Isaac follows quickly after. The taller teen collapses on top of Stiles and it doesn’t matter that he’s ice cold and dead. Stiles just wants to hold him close until the world crashes and buildings crumbles and the sky disappears in a sea of fire.

\--

“So,” Isaac says. “I take it things aren’t going too well with you and Derek?”

Stiles, sitting on the couch only wearing his jeans, shoots him an irritated look but doesn’t answer. Isaac rolls his eyes and gives him the cup of coffee. The boy had somehow found both coffee and a working coffee machine in the burned down kitchen and Stiles is forever grateful.

Outside the world is getting lighter and lighter, the sky is turning blue and on the table is Stiles’ phone with 23 missed calls from his dad, 12 missed calls from Scott, 7 missed calls from Lydia, and all in all 14 unanswered texts but both Stiles and Isaac ignores it.

“What happened?” Isaac asks.

“Erica didn’t tell you?” Stiles sighs because he really doesn’t want to talk about Derek.

“You do know he loves you, right?” Isaac says as he sits down on the couch next to Stiles. Stiles can’t resist and he reaches up and kisses him.

“He has an odd way of showing it,” Stiles mumbles against Isaac’s lips.

“We’re talking about the guy who is used to dating murderess, Stiles, of course he has an odd way of showing it.”

 “You know what happened,” Stiles continues as he wraps his hands around Isaac’s neck. Isaac puts a hand on his waist and pulls him onto his lap.

“I do,” Isaac agrees. “And it was stupid.”

“It was,” Stiles moans as he places kisses down Isaac’s neck.

“He only did it to protect you,” Isaac says as he shoves his hands into Stiles’ jeans and squeezes his ass. “You know it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“Derek is an idiot – “

“But he’s your idiot.”

“God, Lahey, when did you turn into such a sap?”

Isaac smirks again Stiles’ lips and says: “I’m a sap that can make you make scream my name.”

“Wanna bet?” Stiles says before he kisses him desperately.

“You’re on,” Isaac says when they pull apart and then he pushes Stiles down on his back on the couch.

The phone still lays forgotten in the kitchen. 


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after this there's only a short epilog left that'll hopefully explain a few things

_“Life is for the living._

_Death is for the dead._

_Let life be like music._

_And death a note unsaid.”_

― Langston Hughes, the Collected Poems

 

 

He is staring at his jeep wordlessly. Isaac is standing somewhere behind him on the porch. He’s just gotten off the phone with his dad and he sounded about ready to kill him. He’s texted both Lydia and Scott. And now he’s just standing here, looking at his car like it’s the first time he sees it.

What had Scott said about the jeep?

He clenches his eyes and tries to recall his friend’s words.

“It went missing along with you. The nogitsune probably used it to kidnap you somewhere. We’ll see if we can find it.”

_We’ll see if we can find it._

They have found it because it’s right there in front of him. They’d gone looking for it, he assumes, maybe Scott even told him about it but he just wasn’t listening. Or maybe they just found it by accident. But somehow that doesn’t fit either.

_It went missing along with you. The nogitsune probably used it to kidnap you somewhere._

If it went missing with him and if the nogitsune did really use it to kidnap him then wherever they found the jeep must be where he was taken by the nogitsune – he can’t see that anything else should be possible. Wherever the jeep was so was he as some point and it’s possible his body is also there somewhere. Then again if whoever found the jeep didn’t find his body it might not actually be there. But then where would it be?

“Stiles? You okay?”

Stiles looks at Isaac leaning against the door. “Yeah,” he sighs, “I’m fine. I just… have to check something.”

“Can I come with you?” the dead werewolf asks and Stiles shrugs and gets into the car. Isaac climbs into the passenger seat and Stiles puts the key in the car and starts it. He stares ahead of himself through the front window without actually moving his foot from the break. “What’s up?” Isaac asks concerned.

“I just…” Stiles shakes his head and finally lets the car move. He takes the usual way back to the main road. On the way Isaac spends his time searching for a good music channel while Stiles still wonders about the jeep. Suddenly a new thought occurs to him. Derek. He’s the one who brought it jeep to his house. Why not Scott or Lydia or Ethan or Danny? Why not basically anyone but Derek? Was he the one who found it?

“Hand me my phone,” Stiles says without taking his eyes off the road.

“You’re driving,” Isaac says.

“Give it to me,” Stiles growls and Isaac hands it over with a heavy sigh. He places the phone in Stiles’ palm and the by quickly finds Scott’s number.

“Stiles!” he shouts into the speaker. “Where the hell have you – “

“Look, dude, I’m so sorry but you got to help me with something.”

“Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, calm down. Just tell me who found my jeep.”

“What?” Scot says.

“My jeep,” Stiles repeats. “Who found it?”

“What do you mean who found it?” Scott asks.

“I mean – “ Stiles stops himself and frowns. “Did you not know that my jeep had been found?”

“By who?”

“That’s what I’d like to know!”

“Well, where did you find it?”

“Derek drove it home.”

“Derek?”

 Stiles sighs. This is leading absolutely nowhere.  “I have to go, see you later, buddy.”

“No, Stiles, _wait_ – “

He hangs up before Scott can finish his sentence and hands the phone back to Isaac.

“What’s this with Derek and your jeep?” Isaac asks and looks at Stiles out of the corner of his eyes. The human shrugs and runs a hand through his hair.

“I think he found it,” Stiles explains.

“Yes, and so what?” Isaac asks.

“Well, where did he find it exactly?” Stiles asks irritated as he turns right, headed for Derek’s loft. “He had to find it _somewhere_ and I need to know where that somewhere is.”

Isaac doesn’t say anything and they spend the rest of the drive to the loft in silence. When they park outside Stiles jumps out and is about to tell Isaac to stay put but the other teen is already out of the jeep.

“I’m going to take a look around,” Isaac smirks. “You go see lover-boy.”

“You’re awfully cocky for someone who sucked my dick less than hour ago,” Stiles says.

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Isaac says.

“Ditto,” Stiles says before he heads off to the loft.

\--

Derek looks surprised to see him and Stiles can’t really blame him. It’s been a long time since he’s been in this loft and it feels odd to be back. The air is a weird mixture of familiar and hostile and he can’t figure out how that is.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks.

“I need to talk to you,” Stiles says.

Derek furrows his eyebrows and he looks absolutely displeased with this development.

“Where did you find my jeep?” Stiles asks.

The question obviously startles Derek because he furrows his already furrowed eyebrows and opens his mouth without actually answering the question.

He looks too good like that, Stiles thinks. He’s only wearing a tight t-shirt and loose jeans, his arms are exposed and his beard has grown out a bit. Stiles wants to reach out, grab him by the neck and pull him in for a long, heated kiss. But he doesn’t.

“What do you mean?” Derek asks slowly, like the question doesn’t make any sense to him.

“I mean, where did you find my jeep?”

It’s so hard to stay where he is and look at Derek and pretend that it doesn’t cut through him like a knife the fact that he can’t just kiss every inch of his face.

Derek furrows his eyebrows and he watches Stiles like he’s the predator and Derek is the prey. Stiles can practically feel the hostility in the air tighten.

“Derek,” Stiles sighs, “where did you find it – “

“The former Railroad Depot,” Derek interrupts and looks away suddenly.

Stiles wants to scream. Is it so hard, he thinks, to be in the same room with me? Can’t you even stand to look at me these days?

“Okay,” Stiles says and turns around to leave.

“Stiles,” Derek interrupts. “What is going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks without turning around.

“Your dad called me, told me you hadn’t come home last night and now you show up here, asking weird questions. And then there’s all those times you wander around the old Hale house – “

“Wait,” Stiles spins around. “All those times?” he repeats. “How many times have you seen me out there?”

Derek’s jaw clenches. “Enough times.”

Stiles’ breath gets caught in his throat. “You’ve been following me.”

“I’ve been looking out for you – Stiles!”

But the human is already out of the apartment and running down the stairs. The thought are turning and twisting in his skull but he can’t grab ahold of any of them and all he knows is that he needs to get away from here as quickly as possible.

He runs all the way to his jeep, jumps in, starts it and drives away.

“Are you okay?” Isaac asks and Stiles isn’t even surprised the boy somehow got into the jeep without him noticing.

“No,” he answers sternly.

“Where’re we going?”

“The old Railroad Depot.”

Isaac makes a noise of confirmation before he asks: “Why?”

“Derek found my jeep there,” Stiles explains. Isaac asks him something else but Stiles isn’t listening to the dead boy next to him anymore.

Beacon Hills former Railroad Depot mostly consists of a large, empty space, concrete walls and a train car. Around the Railroad depot is an old industrial area with half-finished buildings filling the space. Once upon a time the plan had been to get rid of the old Railroad Depot and build a huge industrial area with loads of companies and all sorts of factories. The plan hadn’t worked out, though, because it’d turned out that the earth was mostly ruined because of some chemicals leaking from somewhere within the Railroad Depot and everyone had very quickly abandoned the place. None of this matters, however, the only thing that is really relevant as Isaac and Stiles park the jeep on the other side of the road and cross the industrial area, walking towards Derek’s old layer, is that there’s no way Stiles’ jeep could’ve been parked anywhere near here.

Isaac leads the way into the actual Railroad Depot and whistles impressed as he walks to where the old subway train car still is.

“This sure brings back memories,” he hums.

Stiles isn’t really paying attention at this point. He feels oddly numb at the same time as something inside of his fingers is spinning – it makes him feel cold and restless.

He turns around and walks away, not even bothering to check whether Isaac is following him or not. Outside again he has to half crawl over the old ruins to get back to the road. He grabs his phone without thinking and calls Scott again.

“Stiles, where the fuck – “

“When did you start searching for my jeep?” he interrupts. His voice is strange, he realizes.

“What are you talking about – “

“Just answer the question, please.”

“Lydia is here, she really wants to talk to you – “

“SCOTT!” Stiles is breathing heavily, his voice breaks, his fingers are actually trembling at this point. “When did you first look for my jeep?”

Scott is silent for a very long time on the other end of the line then he finally says in a low voice, like he’s afraid what he’s about to say might upset Stiles: “We looked for you ever since you went missing.”

“And you didn’t find me.” It’s a conclusion, not a question. “Did you know Derek found my jeep?”

“No? What’s all this about, Stiles?”

“Did you drive past the old Railroad Depot when you looked for me?” Stiles continues.

Scott sighs. “Of course we did.”

“The only place my jeep could be parked is on the other side of the road and anyone would’ve noticed it there.”

“Yes,” Scott agrees. “Please, Stiles, you’re scaring us.”

Stiles swallows hard. “I’m sorry,” he says but his voice is strangely hallow, like he can’t even muster proper feelings anymore.

“Ethan had a thought,” Scott says just as Stiles is about to hang up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah – you know I bit the nogitsune. Well, it didn’t work, obviously, and it abducted you later but what if the bite just needed time to take and that’s what happened? Like, it died and you escaped and for whatever reason you can’t remember, maybe because, you know, the nogitsune was part of you – “

“I got to go.” Stiles hangs up and walks to the jeep. He gets in but doesn’t start the engine. The thoughts are spiraling around in his head. It feels like the answer to all of his questions is right ahead of him but he just can’t reach far enough to grasp ahold of it and it’s so frustrating he feels like screaming.

He thinks about calling Derek again, asking him more about the jeep and where he actually found it, but he isn’t sure the answers will make much sense at this point so he doesn’t. Instead he waits another five minutes until Isaac comes out of the building with a huge grin on his face and enters the car. He casts one look at Stiles’ suffering expression and his smile disappears.

The drive back to the old Hale house is silent.

When he parks the car he is surprised to notice Isaac isn’t getting out.

He’s looking at the Hale house almost longingly but he isn’t moving.

“Just go ahead,” he says. “I’ll come in later.”

Stiles wants to tell him to get the fuck out of the car and come inside because he’s afraid if he leaves Isaac in the car then the next time Stiles goes outside he’ll be gone. And he isn’t sure his sanity can handle that. He stares at Isaac with his jaw clenched until he resigns. He practically stumps inside and he can feel hot anger burn in his muscles.

He slams the door shut behind him with more force than strictly necessary but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, are you okay?”

He looks up and his heart stops.

Allison is standing in front of him.

She’s wearing the same clothes she wore the day she died but there’s no blood. Her skin isn’t white and there is no blood on her lips. She looks at him with a worried frown and he is just standing there, looking at her speechlessly.

“Stiles?”

“Allison?”

She smirks. “Yeah.”

He inhales deeply but it’s like the air doesn’t reach his lungs. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, his legs, his entire body. He wants to cry and laugh all at the same time and it is very frustrating when he can do neither.

“How are you?” she asks.

He closes his eyes for a brief second and when he opens them again she’s still there. She looks so real, so alive and it is heartbreaking.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead of answering. “God, I’m so fucking sorry, it’s all my fault – “

“Please,” she says and rolls her eyes. “This couldn’t be your fault even if you wanted it to.”

“Allison – “

“You weren’t the nogitsune,” she tells him sternly, like a mother scolding her child. “You didn’t kill me.”

“How do you know that?” he asks in a small, broken voice.

She gives him her most beautiful smile. “I just do. Trust the dead.”

“I’m dead too.”

This statement makes her smile falter and her eyes grow dark with sadness. “I heard,” she says. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Is it okay?” he’s suddenly asking. “Being dead, I mean, is it…” He shrugs and Allison grins.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says and he realizes to his surprise that he doesn’t worry. Not about death, at least. He can’t imagine actually being dead is more troublesome than being alive.

She looks around her, looks at the staircase, at the entrance to the living room and the door to the basement behind her.

“It’s weird being back,” she mumbles. She shudders. “I sorta wish we were someplace else,” she confesses.

Stiles snorts. “That’ll be a bit difficult,” he jokes.

She looks at him with a smile on her lips. “Why?” she asks with honest curiosity in her voice.

Stiles furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean why?” he asks.

Allison throws her head back and laughs. “What do you mean what do you mean why?” she shoots back.

Stiles huffs but he still isn’t sure what she’s talking about. And then a thought hits him: Isaac went with him to Derek’s loft and later also the Railroad Depot. He was able to leave the house.

“Allison,” he asks. She hums. “Why are you here?”

She sends him another confused look. “Honestly Stiles what do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you here?”

“Where else would I be?”

Stiles inhales sharply. Isaac went with him to the loft, to the abandon Railroad Depot, he left the house. “Could you go into town?”

Allison is looking at him if she’s afraid death took away what was left of his sacred sanity. “I haven’t tried.”

“But,” he says, “why are you here?”

She sighs heavily. “I really don’t know what – “

“Is it because of me? Or is it because of the house?”

This time she actually looks at him with something like recognition in her eyes. “You, of course.”

“You’re here, in this house, because I’m here in this house?”

“Yes.”

Boyd had said something about dropping by – Stiles had assumed he’d meant the Hale house and only the Hale house but for all he knows Boyd and Erica as well drop by the Railroad Depot every now and again as well. Boyd, Erica and Isaac has a sense of belonging with the old Hale house, this is where Derek moved in again for a while between the Railroad Depot and the new loft. Allison and Aiden on the other hand have either no memories or no good memories about this place. Stiles always assumed the Hale house served as a sort of beacon for the dead – given that it was literally a ghost house only visibly to dead people. But now the thought occurs to him that maybe it isn’t about the house but about him. Maybe there’s a reason he woke up here.

“Say,” Stiles says and he is surprised at how calm he sounds when it feels like there’s a storm raging inside of him, “if we were to visit a ruin of a house you reckon we’d be able to see the old house like we can with this one?”

“Who knows?” Allison shrugs and looks around her again. Stiles can’t help but look at her. Death changed her, he thinks, but it also changed Erica, Boyd, Aiden and Isaac. It even changed Stiles. He isn’t the same – he isn’t alive anymore. He is aware of this yet he isn’t sure what to do about it. Or whether he wants to change anything at all.

Stiles walks past Allison into the living and sits down on the couch. He hears her room around in the house and he doesn’t stop her. He puts his head in his hands and thinks and think and thinks. Words, sentences, memories and conversations are on repeat in his mind over and over again until he feels lightheaded and weak.

_You’re alive._

Not “you’re okay” but “you’re alive”

_Sometimes the point of the game is to keep playing, and sometimes a sacrifice must be made in order to do so._

He’d assumed he was the sacrifice because obviously he died but maybe that isn’t the case? The nogitsune always talked about it being his game – maybe he was the one who was sacrificed for Stiles?

_It cannot be measured in good and bad._

Maybe it doesn’t mean that people can do bad things out of love but simply that sometimes someone does something they think is good and then it turns out not to be.

_The former Railroad Depot._

It’s simply not possible Derek found his jeep there.

_The nogitsune probably used it to kidnap you somewhere._

Where the jeep was so was Stiles – and more importantly Stiles’ body.

_The only place my jeep could be parked is on the other side of the road and anyone would’ve noticed it there._

Derek didn’t find his jeep by the former Railroad Depot ergo he lied. But why – he did find it, Stiles’ father told him so.

_You know I bit the nogitsune_

He didn’t know – it must be another one of those memories that never returned.

_What if the bite just needed time to take and that’s what happened?_

The memories Stiles still doesn’t possess are the one’s regarding his own death.

_You’ve been following me._

Derek’s been following him, acting strange ever since Stiles returned.

_Is it because of me? Or is it because of the house?_

There’s something pulling Stiles towards this particular house for some reason.

_You do know he loves you, right?_

Yes, he knows this. Derek loves him. And he doesn’t understand why he could ever doubt that.

_He only did it to protect you._

Derek wanted to protect Stiles… Save him.

“Stiles?”

He gasps and looks up. He is surprised to find Isaac, Aiden and Allison all watching him. He doesn’t bother with asking when Aiden appeared but just holds up a hand to indicate they need to be silent. He shuts his eyes closed and thinks. He’s still missing that one, tiny little piece to complete the puzzle –

He opens his eyes wide, gets up from the couch and practically stumbles into the hallway with his three dead friends right behind him.

He runs to the door to the old basement. This is where he woke up. It hadn’t seemed important at the time but why right here? And why not anywhere else? He grabs the handle and twists but it’s still locked.

His breath gets caught in his throat and he chokes.

“Stiles, what going on?” Allison asks him.

“I need to open this door,” he tells them and pulls at the handle more desperately. Surprisingly enough – or maybe not – no one asks any questions and Aiden and Isaac take Stiles place and start breaking down the door. Stiles steps back so he is standing next to Allison, watching it all take place. And for every piece the door loses he feel closer to breaking down himself. The tears are already staining his cheeks but he cannot tell if they’re tears of happiness or sadness anymore. The line between the two have blurred until it hardly even exists.

When the whole in the door is large enough for him to crawl through he pushes past the werewolves and stumbles down the dark staircase. He can’t help but think about what happened down there. All the people who were trapped down here when Kate set the house ablaze. He can almost hear them screaming and begging as he makes his way further down.

He is sobbing like a maniac by the time he reaches the actual basement. He has been down here before – for a long time. He’s lived down here for… days.

He gasps and sobs. There is no light but he doesn’t need any. Suddenly he has no problems with seeing in the immense darkness covering the basement.

He walks a few hesitant steps forward and then he sees it:

His own body lying on its back, eyes closed, body still and stiff, skin pale and the clotted blood. All that dark, dark blood leaving trails down his cheeks like tears, from his mouth down his jaw, from his ears and onto the floor. 

\--

“Where are you going now?” Aiden asks him when Stiles walks towards his jeep.

“Derek’s,” he answers.

“Why?” Isaac has the need to ask.

“To tell him I know what he did,” Stiles says.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Allison says and her voice is careful and thoughtful and yet again he’s struck with the thought of how unfair it all is; her death, Aiden’s, Isaac’s, Erica’s, Boyd’s. His own, too.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I need to do this on my own.” He opens the door and then he hesitates and looks back over his shoulder at them standing on the porch, watching him. Isaac, with his slightly worried expression, Aiden, who manages to look both bored and caring, Allison, who is strong and yet so human and loving.

“Will you wait for me?” he asks because the thought of leaving them breaks him inside.

“Yes,” Isaac answers without hesitating. Allison and Aiden both nod and Stiles swallows hard before he gets into his jeep and drives away.

\--

He doesn’t feel anything on the way to Derek’s loft. Not even when he’s in the elevator does he feel anything. It isn’t until he’s at the door that something starts changing though he isn’t sure what.

He opens the door and steps inside and finds his pack waiting for him. They all look up when he enters and he stops dead in his track, staring at all of them.

Scott and Lydia are standing by the window, Ethan and Danny are on the couch, Malia and Kira enters from the kitchen and Derek walks down from upstairs. When Stiles sees him everything inside of him stops. There is nothing, there is no one, nothing exist. Then everything returns with a force so strong he can’t breathe.

“Stiles!” Scott exclaims and takes a step towards him but then he notices the tears on his best friend’s cheeks and he stops in chock. Stiles isn’t looking at him, he’s looking at Derek and the way Derek returns his look makes it obvious to Stiles that the older male knows exactly why he’s there.

He wants to ask what they’re all doing here but he knows. He knows he forgot his phone in the Hale house, he knows Isaac used it to text the others once he’d left and he has no idea how he knows.

A scream cuts through the air and everyone but Derek, Lydia and Stiles covers their ears. When the long, intense, heartbreaking scream stops Scott looks at Lydia with absolute fear in his brown eyes. Stiles isn’t surprised, because he knew, deep down, it was only a matter of time before her banshee abilities would catch on.

“What’s going – “ Malia begins but Stiles cuts her off:

“I know what you did.” He is still looking at Derek who has his jaw clenched and a tear in his eye. “I know.”

The tears stream down Derek’s cheeks now and everyone is watching in complete horror.

“You killed me,” Stiles says and his voice breaks. “You killed me, Derek.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers and Stiles has never heard him sound so broken before. It is horrible. He wants to wrap him in his arms and beg him never to sound like that again.

“I know,” Stiles tells him because it’s the bitter truth.

“What are you saying?” Scott whispers and his voice too is somewhere between frightened and crying. Stiles dares to look at him but his eyes lands on Lydia instead. She’s crying soundlessly and shaking her head because she knows it too: he’s dead.

Stiles turns his attention back to Derek. “I know you did it to protect me.”

“I failed you – “

“No you didn’t.” Stiles smiles through the haze of tears. “You could never fail me.”

Derek swallows hard, the tears still streaming. “I never should’ve – “

“You had no choice.”

“You were so brave,” Derek whispers, clenches his fists and closes his eyes as if he’s remembering something extremely painful.

Stiles chuckles but what he says next isn’t amusing: “I know how hard it must’ve been for you, seeing me like that after everything with Paige.”

Derek opens his eyes again and there is a fire in his eyes. “It had nothing to do with Paige. It was you. It was all for you.”

God, Stiles wants to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and _kiss_ him –

“What’s going on?” Malia finally demands to be told. She is crying, Stiles notices, but he isn’t even surprised by this.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says as he turns around. “I’m so sorry about everything.”

“It wasn’t your fault – “ Derek begins but Stiles cuts him off:

“I know. But I’m still sorry. I’m sorry I made you worry. I’m sorry about everything.” He’s proud of himself for not breaking down entirely. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.” That is only half true. Inside he can already feel the gentle pull of other worlds and he isn’t frightened – maybe he never was. He knows there will be a place out there where he belongs and he can wait to join it.

“Stiles,” Scott cries. “Please tell me all of this is a joke.”

Stiles shakes his head. “You’ll go to the old Hale estate tomorrow. Underneath the ruin you’ll find an entrance, nothing more than a whole in the earth with a few boards covering it. It’s an entrance to all that remains of the original Hale house: the basement. Down there you’ll find my body. I’m so sorry.”

Scott is shaking his head, Lydia covers her mouth with her hand as if to stop herself from screaming, Ethan and Danny sits still as statues on the couch, Kira is crying desperately and Malia is half wolfed out. Derek –

Derek is standing there on the staircase and Stiles wants nothing more than to hug him but he knows he can’t. Not anymore.

“I have to go.” He looks at each and every one of them individuality and he doesn’t know how to tell them how much he loves them. “Don’t feel sorry for me, please.” He smiles because he’s happy. “I’m not afraid.”

He inhales and then he looks at Scott. “You have to protect my father,” he tells him. “He pretends like he is strong but he isn’t. You have to protect Derek, too. Just because he pretends like he is okay it doesn’t mean it’s actually true. And you have to give Malia a proper place in the pack – she deserves it. She’s good, she’s strong. You have to promise me,” his voice breaks, “to take care of yourself. Lydia, you too. Allison, me… I can’t even begin to imagine what this must be like for you. But, Scott, you have to get through this. And,” he swallows hard, “you have to get through Isaac’s death as well.” The entire room stiffens and he can actually feel them not breathing. "I'm so sorry,” Stiles repeats. “You’ll be okay. I promise. You have each other. It’s a cliché but it’s true.”

He doesn’t need them to confirm anything because he knows they will remember his words forever. He doesn’t need to be there when they actually realize what he just told them. Himself, Isaac… he is actually grateful he doesn’t have to be there. He turns around before they can properly digest his words because it’s time for him to leave. They’re still breaking behind him, piece by piece, and that’s okay. They need to break because he knows they’ll also mend. It will take time but they will be okay. He can’t stay in the room and he wants to leave before anyone can say anything.

He stops briefly in the doorway and smiles. He truly is happy. “I love you.” Those are the last words he utters before he leaves.

\--

He leaves the jeep at Derek’s.

The walk back home to the Hale house takes a few hours but it’s wonderful.

When he enters the clearing the house is gone and all that remain is the ruin. Somewhere down there is his body but that’s okay. He is okay.

“There you are,” Isaac says and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Allison and Aiden walk up so they stand on the other side of him and Allison takes his hand.

Erica and Boyd walk up and stand next to Isaac and they’re all smiling.

“Did you see my brother?” Aiden asks.

“I did,” Stiles says and he grins so hard it almost hurts. “He’s doing well.”

Aiden snorts. “Of course he is.”

Behind him he hears people approaching but he doesn’t need to turn around to know that it’s echoes of people who once lived but are long gone. A little girl laughs. Two twin boys argue. An old woman tells her husband she loves him. A mother lifts her child into her arms. A father wraps his arm around his son and his daughter. Laura Hale is talking to Talia Hale. Their voices are soft and strong. A woman steps up next to Allison and Aiden. Stiles doesn’t turn his head to look at her but he knows exactly how she looks, he has had a picture of her on his bedside table ever since she died.

“You made it,” he tells her.

“Of course,” she says.

“Dad’s doing well.”

“I know, and he’ll continue to.”

Stiles grins.

Above them the sky should be getting darker but it isn’t. There’re thousands of moons dancing among millions of suns while all the stars applause them.

He feels more than sees the fog he hadn’t even noticed clouded the earth leave. Suddenly it’s like he can see and what he sees is beautiful and terrifying but he isn’t afraid.

He is happy. He is truly happy.

And wherever he’s supposed to go now he knows he’ll belong.


	7. Epilog

_“If flowers can_

_teach themselves_

_how to bloom after_

_winter passes,_

_so can you.”_

— Noor Shirazie, Springtime

 

 

The creature wearing his face is standing at the end of his bed. He looks so terrifying. Stiles had no idea his own face could be twisted into such grim features.

He doesn’t get the change to scream before the nogitsune knocks him out.

\--

He wakes up with a burning headache. The only light in the room where he is currently located is from a single candlelight burning next to his face. He looks up and sees his own back turned to him. He shivers but doesn’t know what to do or say. He is frightened – he is scared to death.

Finally the nogitsune turns around.

“You’re awake,” the nogitsune informs him.

Stiles shudders again. Everything about this creature makes his inside twist and turns and he wants nothing more than to be anywhere but here. The nogitsune moves towards him and Stiles can’t help but shiver. The creature’s eyes burns and he looks down at Stiles like he is nothing more than a bug he could crush between his fingers. He raises his hand and Stiles isn’t surprised when the fist hits him a knocks him out again.

\--

The nogitsune is walking back and forth. Stiles is in the corner shivering with cold and fear. He’s come to the conclusion he’s in some sort of basement he just doesn’t know which one yet.

Something is bothering the devil wearing his face and the fact that the nogitsune is afraid is more frightening than comforting.

\--

“You’re dying.”

The nogitsune turns around quickly and meets Stiles eyes.

“You’re dying,” Stiles repeats. “The bite is working.”

The nogitsune looks startled for a brief second but then it laughs. “So are you, Stiles. So are you.”

But Stiles knows he is lying.

Stiles isn’t dying – only the nogitsune is.

He feels a spring of hope bloom inside of him.

\--

The nogitsune sits in one end of the basement. His face has turned an ugly grey color. His lips are ashen and his eyes are black.

Stiles is on the floor, shivering, his lips blue and his skin white. It’s been so long since he’s eaten anything or tasted water on his tongue. Now, he’s dying too.

They’re both dying.

\--

Stiles has his eyes closed but he can still hear and feel someone enter the basement. He doesn’t have the energy to open his eyes.

Someone is roaring and shouting and Stiles is so relived he could cry.

Someone lift his body into their arms. He still hasn’t opened his eyes. He has no energy left. He is dying but there’s still hope…

\--

He opens his eyes and looks up at Derek’s face. The man is crying.

“What’s…” Stiles swallows. “What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry,” Derek cries and hugs Stiles tight. “I’m so sorry.”

Stiles feels different than he did before. Something has changed inside of him and the whisper of hope he’d had inside of him is gone.

 “I thought – I thought – “ Derek shakes his head. “The nogitsune, it’s dead. You’re dying. The bite worked on the nogitsune, it was dying. I should’ve let it die. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have killed it.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to do or say.

Derek shakes his head. “You’re dying. I only meant to kill the monster. Not you. Never you.”

Stiles can feel it now. He can feel a pain that wasn’t there before and he can feel his heart beat rapidly and his muscles twist his body tremble like it’s fighting a body against itself. He is till dying. And fast.

“When I came down here I saw the nogitsune. I – I ripped its throat out. And that’s when you started bleeding. I should have let the bite kill it but I – I killed it and now you’re dying too and –”

He looks up at Derek.

He is crying.

He mustn’t cry.

This opens his mouth to tell him but there are no words in his throat.

He gasps and Derek kisses his forehead.

Stiles can’t say anything.

He has to tell him.

He can’t.

Derek has to know…

This isn’t his fault.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve found you sooner. I shouldn’t have killed it. I shouldn’t have killed you.”

\--

Derek stumbles out of the basement. He can’t think, he can hardly even breathe. He sees Stiles jeep and he gets in. He turns on the engine and drives it back to the loft. All the while there’s not a thought in his head, his body is aching and his mind is absolutely blank.

He has dark blood on his hands.

Stiles blood.

Derek killed him.

\--

Text from Scott McCall:

Stiles is home, pack meeting at mine ASAP.

Derek stares at the text.

It’s been exactly three hours since he left the basement.

He feels empty inside.

The text can’t be real.

He gets up nevertheless.

\--

He sees him and he doesn’t know whether to scream our laugh or cry or all three things. He is standing right there, in the middle of the room. He is wearing old jeans and a t-shirt. His skin is pale as ever but not white. There’s no blood anywhere on him. He looks healthy.

Derek closes his eyes and listens.

Badum – badum – badum.

A heartbeat.

Derek can hardly breathe as he walks into the living room.

Is this real?

Is anything real?

Stiles is standing there, in front of him, alive. _Breathing._ As if Derek had never killed the nogitsune and Stiles with it. He’s alive.

“You’re alive.”

“I am.”

\--

Isaac Lahey

February 27th 1996 – November 16th 2013

“One day, you’ll just be a memory to some people. Do your best to be a good one.”

 

Przemyslaw Stiles Stilinski

April 8th 1996 – November 18th 2013

"It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isaac's quote is by someone unknown and Stiles' is from The Hunger Games


End file.
